Mrs Johannsen
by tarheelveteran
Summary: Yelina longs for a forever life with Horatio. She even prays for a miracle. Then one night a mysterious, lonely old woman moves in across the street. Little does Yelina know how much this new neighbor will change her life.  Takes place after Rio.
1. All I Need is a Miracle

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of CSI Miami or its intellectual properties (though if they're giving away Rick Stetler...)**

**A/N: This story takes place after _Rio_. **

* * *

**Chapter 1—All I Need Is A Miracle**

Horatio strode up the sidewalk, studying everything through his sunglasses as he usually did when he visited his sister-in-law. Ray Jr. walked ahead of him, head down, hands in pockets. His uncle knew that that was just Ray's way of saying everything was going as well as could be expected for a teenage boy.

"Hey, thanks Uncle Horatio" he finally said.

He nodded with a slight smile. "We'll do this again next month, Ray?"

"Yeah."

There she was at the screen door, looking at him with those magnificent green eyes. Much as he tried, Horatio couldn't concentrate on anything else when Yelina was in sight. "Back so soon, Horatio?"

"Yelina. Ray Jr. can only eat so many burgers in three hours."

She smiled and opened the screen door. "Why don't you come on in for a while?"

"I'd like that very much."

The redheaded Lieutenant stood in the hallway as Yelina was in the kitchen. He could keep his mind on little else as he watched her back while she poured lemonade into two glasses and brought them out.

"Here. One of the neighbors brought me some lemons off his tree, and I made a batch of lemonade while you were gone."

With that smile he took the glass and took a sip. "Delicious. Thank you."

She sat down on the old blue sofa and motioned toward the easy chair. "Have a seat. Stay a while."

"I think I will."

_Neighbors. Neighbors._

Horatio furrowed his eyebrows as he looked out the front window.

"What is it?" Yelina wanted to know.

"That old house across the street?"

Yelina looked through her window as she sipped the delectable lemonade. "Hmm. I see the _For Sale_ sign is gone. Guess they finally found a buyer. That house was vacant for months after the foreclosure. Whoever bought that place got it for a good price, I'm sure." She smiled to herself now. "I wonder what kind of neighbors we'll have. Be nice if there's another family that has some boys that Ray Jr. could be friends with."

Horatio grinned. "I might have to come over and check on him twice as often."

The beautiful Colombian's smile changed from wondering to one of deep longing now. "I would really like that."

"As would I."

Horatio and Yelina simply looked at each other for several minutes.

"How long, Horatio?" she asked with a sadness as she clutched her glass.

"How long for what, Yelina?"

She closed her eyes and dipped her head. "How much longer are we going to avoid how we feel about one another?"

That smile turned to a sadness as well. "Yelina, I—"

She closed her eyes as the slings and arrows hit her heart again. "I know. I'm still your brother's wife. Ray's gone now, Horatio. Why let it go on?"

Because of those "boundaries", somehow it would never go any further.

Horatio took a deep breath and picked up his empty lemonade glass. "Yelina, you make wonderful lemonade. I think I'd better go now."

She nodded. "Thanks for looking after Ray Jr. He really looks forward to those burger nights with you."

As her brother-in-law walked down the driveway to the Hummer, she simply stood at the door. Watching. Longing. Hoping. She watched that Hummer leave until it turned at the end of the street. Just like she always did.

* * *

The weight of the world was on her shoulders as she slipped into her tee shirt and leggings. Ray Jr. was just as happy as he could be after spending the evening with his favorite uncle. Her eyes fell on his closed door as she could hear the sound of the Xbox game and his shouting at the screen. She knew he was glad to be back from Brazil. Away from that gilded cage in Rio. Away from the drugs and the favela boys. It was a long, hard road after Ray died. But now they could smile again.

Yelina shut the door to her bedroom, just like she always did. She turned out her light and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Horatio had urged them to come back to Miami. He would look after them. And he had done that. But she still longed for more. And she knew that he did as well.

A tear trickled out of her eye. It could be so frustrating at times, she thought, as she sniffed and wiped it away.

And then a strange thing happened. Yelina began to pray. She hadn't prayed quite like this since the danger in Rio. But this was nothing like the little girl in the small Colombian church. This was an open, heartbroken prayer.

_God, if you're really out there, I need a miracle. You saved Ray Jr. and brought us back safely to Miami. I wish that Horatio and I could finally love one another. I really wish we could get past those boundaries of his. God, please, if you're real, if Horatio and I can have a life together, I promise that I'll never ask for anything else again. _

Silence.

What's the use, she thought. Out of the depths of her mind she remembered the words of her wizened old great aunt back in Colombia who would clutch her rosary while on her knees in prayer every morning until she could kneel no more. With that smile she'd pat little Yelina on the head and remind her that God would always give her what was best for her.

Heat lightning lit up the balmy Miami skies. Her eyes followed the light. Her great aunt was most likely in Heaven now, looking down on her, still pulling for her.

"If you'll grant me this one thing, God, I'll never ask for anything ever again" she whispered as she held the pillow close to her chest. "Amen."

* * *

Yelina was jarred awake by a _SLAM!_ The police officer in her reacted as she bolted up from her bed. Bleary eyed and still tired, she squinted at her clock. Half past midnight. She lay back down and closed her eyes again.

Voices. In the street. She didn't recognize them.

One of the things Yelina always appreciated about this little neighborhood was how quiet it was. This was definitely out of place. She put on her sateen robe and, in the dark house she crept to the front window and peered through the blinds.

A medium-size moving truck had parked across the street. Two men slid out the ramp and had begun quietly bringing out boxes and carrying them into the house. As a private investigator, Yelina was naturally curious. She stood and watched for a long time while the two shadowy figures carried in box after box, furniture after furniture, down the ramp, across the grass, into the house. They seemed to take great care in keeping everything secret, private, concealed from the rest of the neighborhood.

_Great. I hope we're not getting a meth lab across the street_. Mystery always made Yelina uneasy.

She was about to close the blinds and lie back down when she saw something else.

There was a woman. She too looked out of place for this neighborhood.

Instead of the young blue collar families that lived in these small old houses, this woman looked rather highbrow. She was much older. Her back was to Yelina. Even in the middle of the night she stood straight and tall, careful of her appearance. She wore a full-length dress with full sleeves.

And were those…white gloves on her hands? In Miami? At twelve-thirty in the morning?

As someone whose job it was to read people, Yelina couldn't help but notice. This woman had a strange sadness about her. When moving into a new home, most residents would be happy, tired or excited, looking around at their new neighborhood. This woman just looked forward. Sadly. Quietly. Vacantly. Like this was just another stop along the way to her death. In the darkness she watched only the boxes and furniture that marched mysteriously into the house. She didn't seem to care that the movers might be making noise in the middle of the night on this otherwise quiet street. She didn't seem to care that her new neighbors might be watching her. She didn't look like would be interested in making friends. She just stared forward and then dipped her head. Somehow, it was as though her heart was frozen in another place and time.

Something about this woman intrigued Yelina. Was this her new neighbor? Did she have a husband? Children? Grandchildren?

Finally, under the streetlights, the moving truck closed up before it rumbled to a start and then drove off just as mysteriously as it had arrived. The woman never looked up. She simply walked into the house, locked the door, and turned the lights off. The street was just as dark and quiet as it had ever been.

Yelina stared out at the quiet darkness for a long time. Finally she went back to bed. As she closed her eyes, little did she suspect that this mysterious, lonely woman would be her miracle.


	2. And Who is My Neighbor?

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed or added this story to alerts and favorites. I'm truly humbled. **

* * *

**Chapter 2—And Who Is My Neighbor?**

It was nine in the morning. Ray Jr. was in school. There was nothing for her to investigate, so Yelina sipped her coffee and basked in the silence for as long as possible.

But there were those bills that lay in front of her, taunting her, reminding her that she couldn't pay them. One by one, she thumbed through them. Car insurance. Electricity. Ray's burial. The cost of moving what she could salvage from Brazil. Cable. The credit card that was just about maxed out. . Getting Ray Jr. some new clothes for school. Her new job as a P.I. paid most of the expenses, but not all. At least she had her retirement pension from Dade County. The money Raymond had brought in from those drug runs was now completely gone, spent on that huge hilltop house in Rio. Raymond insisted that the house would be good for them, up and away from all the crime, but she had felt like a bird in a gilded cage. Besides, it didn't work. Ray Jr. still found his way to the drugs and the favelas.

With a sigh, she just slapped the papers on the brown table again. Yelina didn't want to admit it, but she felt trapped. Alone again. Helpless.

She had forgotten all about that desperate, lonely prayer she'd prayed that night. Still, that dark, shadowy figure stood out in her imagination. She found herself staring out the front window. Who was she? Where did she come from? A stately woman like that should be jetsetting and surrounded by friends. She should be on the arm of a rich husband, arranging flowers, volunteering in a church, or teaching college. But not locked up in a plain, barren little house.

Curiosity won out. Figuring she'd take a break from her finances, Yelina picked up her coffee cup and stepped out into the balmy morning breeze.

The little blue stucco house was still quiet, just as though nothing had ever happened. But this time, instead of just being a vacant house, it was just quiet. The blinds were closed.

Still, she found herself drawn to look. That burgundy four-door car in the driveway. Was that an old Buick Regal? A 1986 model? It was certainly in pristine condition for its age, she thought. Yelina knew a lot about American cars from being a detective and now a PI, and that old Regal looked as though it had just been driven off the lot. It bore a Minnesota license plate. She committed the number to memory and headed back inside to her laptop where she clicked keys and searched the Minnesota Motor Vehicles website.

The car was registered to Adelaide Johannsen, born June 1955. Using her search function, she then went to the Minnesota Bureau of Licenses and typed in Adelaide Johannsen.

Staring back at her on the screen was the stone-cold face of a beautiful, stately woman in her fifties. License photos were hardly ever flattering, but the loneliness and sadness in this woman couldn't be missed. Her last known address was in the tiny town of Grace, Minnesota, just a stone's throw from the South Dakota state line. This looked like the shadowy figure, she thought.

She then went to another search website to find out about recent home sales in the city of Miami. She typed in the address across the street and hit Enter. The house had been purchased by Adelaide Johannsen. No other useful information. She had simply moved here from Minnesota.

Yelina was tempted to run more information based on Adelaide Johannsen's name and birthdate. But at the same time, she couldn't be nosy. After all, this woman's only crime was to want some privacy.

She then ran a simple search on Adelaide Johannsen of Minnesota and hit return.

Some news notes included a house fire in Okley, Minnesota in 1986. No details. She scanned over more articles to include a Joshua Michael Johannsen whose little league team took Minnesota State Championship in 1985.

No wedding announcements. No obituaries. No births. Nothing else that might shed some light on this woman. No arrest records. Only a driver's license from the state of Minnesota. She thought about doing a Lexis-Nexis search under the name, but she could not afford the fifty-four dollars, she reasoned. Not for something like that.

Yelina just watched out the window when something moving in the back yard of the house caught her attention. She stepped outside and looked again.

The woman wore a lavender beach hat and long sleeves in the Florida heat. She looked as though she was pulling weeds, slowly and painfully, paying no attention to anything else around her. She kept her head down, shadowed by that lavender brim, bending down, pulling weeds, looking around, then very delicately taking a cloth and wiping her brow.

Yelina craned her neck. It looked like the woman said something to someone in the house, but she was too far away to be heard.

Slowly, step by step, Yelina came to the edge of the curb, across the street, and watched again. The woman had her back turned and seemed unaware of her presence. Finally she was at the edge of the front yard.

"Hello? Miss Johannsen?" Yelina called. "Miss Johannsen?"

The woman turned with a start, head down, sure to keep her face covered, but Yelina could see from her body language that she was shocked, scared, and angry at the intrusion. She held her white-gloved hand over her lavender hat and bolted into the back door and slammed it shut, sure to let Yelina know that she wasn't pleased about this disruption.

Stunned, Yelina stopped. At this point she wasn't sure whether to go back into her house or try to apologize to the woman. Probably best to give her some space, she reasoned. She walked back across the street, glancing behind her, just in case the woman might change her mind and come back out, or maybe at least peer out from those closed blinds.

As she stood safely back in her own front yard, Yelina studied the plain house. Except for the Buick Regal in her driveway, everything stayed just as plain and barren as though it were still vacant. Lonely ladies in their fifties typically liked to adorn their yards with flower pots, mail box flags, yard statues, or at least a welcome mat. Maybe even a noisy little dog to keep her company. Everything about this yard seemed to say "Nobody lives here!"

* * *

It was after dark when Yelina heard that familiar tap on the door. Given the day's events, she came to the door more cautiously.

Horatio stood at the door expectantly. "Yelina."

She smiled. "Checking up on me, Horatio?"

"I left my sunglasses here when I brought Ray Jr. home."

She opened the screen door. Somehow she sensed that wasn't the real reason he came over, but she would accept that. "Come in. I haven't seen them, but you're welcome to look."

As Horatio followed her into the living room, he couldn't help but notice that her stack of bills lay face down as though she didn't care to look at them. "How are you doing?"

She glanced at the floor. "All right."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Yelina turned her attention to the front window when she saw a light come on across the street. She came to the window and watched, trying not to be too conspicuous. Curiosity got the better of Horatio, and he crept behind Yelina, also peering over her shoulder.

"Have you met your new neighbor yet?" he wanted to know.

Yelina turned around, smiling to see Horatio so close to her. "No. She's very quiet. Her name is Adelaide Johannsen. I did a search on real estate transactions in this neighborhood. She's the new owner."

The woman came out of the dark house. She wore the lavender hat, full sleeves, long skirt, and those white gloves again. She had her head down so that nobody would see her face, even in the darkness. Quickly and quietly she climbed into her pristine blue Buick Regal, started it up, and drove away.

"She seems very lonely" Horatio observed.

Yelina looked over her shoulder at him. "Mmm. She does."

Both of them watched out the window in silence for a moment.

"Do you ever feel lonely, Horatio?"

He looked into her eyes. "Why do you ask?"

She looked out into the dark street again. "Lonely like that?"

* * *

The P.I. lay in her bed, alone again, when she heard a car door slam. She turned over and glanced at the clock. Eleven-thirty.

As Yelina peered through her blinds, she could see the woman, mysterious as ever, holding several bags of groceries in her white-gloved hands. She had just moved in, so Yelina thought that maybe she was just buying cleaning supplies.

_Should I go outside and offer her some help?_

She turned around and picked up her binoculars, peering at the grocery bags. The faint streetlight gave her the lighting she needed.

Cocoa Puffs? Juice boxes? Flintstone Vitamins? Hardly something a lonely woman in her fifties would eat. The woman had been there for several days now and had no hint of family. She came out to collect the rest of the white plastic bags, never looking around, and then shut the door behind her. The house went dark again.

Yelina put her binoculars down and just watched. Something was very strange about this woman.

She would meet her neighbor tomorrow.


	3. The Counsel of Others

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: Cocadas are a dessert from Colombia. They're made of caramel and coconut shavings.  
Italics indicate a flashback.  
"Favelas" are the slums in Rio de Janeiro and are notorious for crime and drugs. **

* * *

**Chapter 3—The Counsel of Others**

The woman closed the back door behind her, eager to get inside from the Florida heat to which she was not yet accustomed. In a very proper manner she hung up her lavender hat and sat on the couch. She took off her shoes and relaxed as much as a well-mannered woman could. She then looked around the dark living room.

_The boy taunted his sister as he held her favorite doll well out of her reach. The little girl kept jumping up to grab it, his response to hold her doll higher. __"Come get your dollie, Lizard Breath!"_

"_Gimme!" she yelled as she kept jumping._

_He now passed the doll from one hand to the next as she jumped on each side of him. "You can't get it!" he chanted._

_The little girl finally turned her head. "Mommy!"_

_Tight-lipped, she walked out of the kitchen, metal spoon in her hand. "Joshua, I told you to quit picking on your sister!"_

_His sister pointed to the boy. "He stole Brandi out of my room and won't give it back!"_

"_I did not!" he shouted at her. _

_She leveled her eyes at the boy. "Joshua, you give back Brandi! Right now!"_

_He pouted and handed the doll back to her sister who clutched it and stuck her tongue out at him. _

"_Mom, did you see that?" he yelled, pointing at the girl. _

"_That's it! Both of you go outside and play! It's a nice day out there."_

"_Aw, Mom" the boy muttered as he put on his ball cap. _

_She shook the metal spoon at him. "I'll give you 'Aw Mom.' Now go play!"_

_At the sound of a key turning in the lock, she put her book down and stood up from the sofa. "Hi, honey" she said as she wrapped her arms around him. _

_The brown-haired man had a huge smile as he stood in the living room. "Honey? Kids? Got something to tell you."_

_Her heart welled with excitement while the children gathered around, trying to hold Daddy's hand. _

"_I got it."_

_She gasped and held him. "Aw, I knew you could do it! Oh God, I don't believe this!"_

"_You got what, Daddy?" his daughter wanted to know."_

_He knelt down and put a hand on each of their shoulders. "Your daddy's gonna try to get a job with United States Senate! If I win, we're all going to Washington." _

_She sat back down on the couch as reality set in._

"_You scared?" he teased. _

"_As a matter of fact, yes."_

Now it was all silent.

* * *

Ray Jr. huffed as he sat at the kitchen table, kneading and pounding the sugary caramel. He said nothing, but the loudness of his actions spoke volumes. Teenage boys didn't help their mothers cook desserts. Especially not when friends were hanging out and ready to play Guitar Hero. "Why do we have to do this, Mom?"

Yelina leveled her eyes at her son. "Because it's the right thing, Ray. Mrs. Johannsen is lonely, and she needs to know that there are good neighbors on this block. And stop eating that caramel or there won't be any left."

"I don't know. The way she wears those hats and those long sleeves? She's…."

The P.I. stopped kneading the coconut shavings and faced him fully. "She's _what_, Ray?"

"I don't know. She's just weird. And she hides all the time! I mean, you're alone all day, too. Why can't she come talk to you?"

With her fingers his mother delicately pinched off small pieces and dipped them into the bowl of coconut shavings. "Ray, when we were in Brazil, how many of the boys in school thought you were weird? You couldn't even speak Portugese. Remember how they made fun of you?"

He sniffed. "Yeah, I guess. But she's still weird."

"Maybe if those kids took the time to know you, you wouldn't have gotten mixed up with those favela boys and gotten into trouble." She smiled her motherly smile again. "Just help me get these cocadas finished, and I'll take them over to her by myself. You don't have to meet her if you don't want to."

"Thanks."

"Besides, having her around has already brought you and me together, don't you think? How long has it been since you helped me make cocadas?"

The boy smirked. He then licked the sweet ingredients off his fingers. "We done?"

"Yes. Thank you, Ray."

One by one Yelina put toothpicks into the little dessert balls and placed them carefully on a Styrofoam plate, then covered them with plastic wrap. Even though her grocery budget was a little tight this week, she still felt like she should reach out to this lady.

Plateful of cocadas in hand, Yelina stood at the doorway of the plain house and rang the bell.

Silence.

While she waited, Yelina glanced at several boxes that lay at her feet on the doorstep.

The Emporium for Kids. Men's Wearhouse. These came from right here in Miami, she noted. Nice clothiers for a lonely lady who seemed to live so simply.

Minutes had passed. Yelina was determined this time. She rang the doorbell again. Still nothing.

Finally the door slowly opened with a creak. That lavender hat showed itself.

"Mrs. Johannsen? I'm Yelina Salas. I live across the street, and I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood."

Slowly brim of that lavender hat rose. Looking up were the same sad, vacant brown eyes that Yelina had seen on the Minnesota driver's license. For just a second the eyes met hers very slowly. Sadly. Suspiciously. The woman's skin was rather wrinkled for her age, reflecting years of sadness, worry and pain. And on her neck, just above that closed collar. Was that a burn scar?

The P.I. in her knew she would have only seconds to study this woman. She glanced over that lavender hat and into the dark foyer to see what else she might learn. But those brown eyes were watching her every move. The P.I. decided she'd best take this slowly.

"I made these for you. They're called cocadas. They're a dessert of my native Colombia. My son and I made them from coconut and caramel. I hope you like them." Gingerly she handed the plate to the woman.

Slowly Mrs. Johannsen lowered her eyes to the plateful of treats. Just as slowly she held out those white-gloved palms. Yelina gently set the plate on her palms, determined to let her know she could be trusted. Yelina used this moment to try to learn more as she glanced at the immaculate white gloves and the long white sleeves that covered her arms completely.

Slowly the woman lowered her head again, shielding her face with the lavender hat, and studied the cocadas.

"Would you like—" Yelina began.

Without a word, the woman quickly backed in and slammed the door shut. Yelina could hear the _CLICK!_ of a door lock. Then silence.

* * *

The quiet, breezy, balmy evenings were one of the few things Yelina could enjoy. The ocean breezes would blow, making that familiar hissing sound in the palm trees. But this evening, she couldn't help but feel frustrated and even a little angry. She had tried to be nice to Mrs. Johannsen and had the door slammed in her face. As a homicide detective, Yelina Salas was used to having doors slammed in her face. But this was different somehow.

_I hope she at least liked those cocadas. _

As she paced along her front lawn, she began to wonder whether it was worth the effort to try to be nice to this woman. Those sad, drawn brown eyes haunted her, though. It was more like she was scared, angry, fearful. Like she was hiding. Somehow it was like this woman wanted to come out of this mysterious prison but just needed some help.

The P.I. glanced across the street again. The boxes were gone, and the house looked just as plain and quiet as it ever did.

She was still in deep thought when, out of the corner of her eye, Yelina saw something white on the windshield of her car. A small, neatly-folded piece of paper waved in the evening breeze. She walked up and pulled it out from under her wiper.

Yelina unfolded what was elegant rosy stationery. Not something from a computer, she thought. The note was obviously written by someone with a shaky hand.

MY DEAR MRS. SALAS,

THANK YOU FOR THE DELICIOUS COCADAS. THEY WERE ENJOYED BY ALL. PARTICULARLY THE CHILDREN.


	4. Assume Nothing

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 4—Assume Nothing**

Yelina stood in the kitchen and stirred up some fresh lemonade for her, Horatio, and Ray Jr. to enjoy on this pleasant Friday evening. It was calm and beautiful outside, but for reasons she couldn't describe, the Colombian lady was far from peaceful. More than usual, it gnawed at her that Horatio was still keeping her at arm's distance. She thought about Mrs. Johannsen and those sad, distant brown eyes. Those lonely eyes. And just what did she mean by "the children"? There were no toys or swing sets in that yard. No evidence that she had any happy, healthy children or grandchildren. In the midst of these thoughts, her curly hair swayed as she stirred more forcefully, clanging the pitcher with the wooden spoon, her breathing deepening. Yelina looked out at her brother-in-law relaxing on the couch while her son lay on his stomach, thumbing the Xbox. So close, yet out of her reach forever. She knew how much Horatio had always loved her, and how much she loved him. Nonetheless, she knew she could end up like that poor lonely woman.

Yelina brushed these thoughts aside and gathered herself as she brought a glass of fresh lemonade out to Horatio.

He took the glass from her hand and took a sip. "Thank you, Yelina. That's excellent."

She smiled slightly. "More fresh lemons from my neighbor. Although these have a little bit of orange in them."

"Yelina Salas, for a P.I., you could always make the best lemonade."

She sighed and set the glass on the coffee table as she settled on the sofa next to him. "So how are things going at the crime lab these days?" she asked, just to casually lead into the subject.

"Everything's fine."

She smiled slightly. "Stetler doesn't ask about me?"

"I avoid Rick as much as possible. So have you met Mrs. Johannsen yet?"

Yelina reached behind her and held out the folded piece of paper she'd found on her windshield. "She left this. I took her some cocadas the other day, but she wouldn't invite me in. Then that evening I found this on my windshield. It's really nice stationery. Nice handwriting. Just a little shaky. She doesn't look like she has Parkinson's or anything, and she's only fifty-four."

"You've been following her, have you?"

She smiled a little. "Well, the neighbors are starting to get suspicious about her. But this shaky handwriting looks like it belongs to a woman in her eighties."

Horatio took the note from her hand and studied it. "Particularly the children?"

"You see anything in that yard that says children live there?"

The Lieutenant furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't."

"And that's what makes me suspicious. Mrs. Johannsen is the only one who goes in and out of that house, and usually at night. I've seen her go in with school snacks, kids' vitamins, and the other day she had a box from the Emporium for Kids on her doorstep."

"Really?"

"That and an expensive men's store."

"So if she's keeping children in the house, it's hard to believe they're being abused or neglected."

"She's the only one I see go in and out of there." Yelina softened her look. "Horatio, she just looks so lonely." She crept a little closer to him on the sofa now. "Horatio, do you understand what I'm talking about?"

Horatio looked at the floor and set his glass down. He could read his sister-in-law like a book. That subject was going to come up again. "Yelina, why don't we step out into the back for a little while? Ray, your mother and I are going to step outside for a little while."

"Okay, Uncle Horatio." Ray Jr. never took his eyes off the flickering game.

Yelina followed him, grasping her lemonade, and watched him as he scanned the darkness in the back yard. For some reason, Yelina always made him a little uneasy. Her eyes probed him as the two of them stayed silent.

"Horatio, tell me. Why are we just waiting?"

"Waiting?"

This was difficult. "Raymond's gone. Marisol's gone. We're both widowed now."

He nodded sadly. "Yes."

"Tell me again. Why are we denying this?"

Horatio opened his mouth to say something when there was a loud crash and the sound of broken glass. Then silence. The police officer in both of them clicked as they whipped their heads around.

"What was that?" Yelina wanted to know, standing up.

"That came from across the street."

"You don't think?"

Horatio and Yelina ran to the front yard. Ray Jr. peeked his head out the front door. Other neighbors had heard the crash and were stepping out onto their lawns to find out what had happened.

In the faint light of her front door, the Mrs. Johannsen lay helplessly on her side on the front step, flailing to reach the front door that stood open. It was obvious that she had slipped and fallen on the front steps. Glass from the front door had shattered and rained down on her. Blood covered her face, her long blue sleeves, and her white-gloved hands. Her lavender hat had fallen off and lay in the sea of broken glass. She now flailed her arms in terror, unable to get up.

"Ma'am? Miami-Dade Police! Let me help you!" he said as he came across the dark lawn. Yelina followed closely behind.

Mrs. Johannsen lay on her step, her fearful eyes now focused on him. Still, she finally managed to squirm toward the open door and into the foyer, pulling the door closed behind her with a SLAM! More glass fell out and rained onto the blood-stained sidewalk. Even in her pain and fear, she was determined to let the world know that she wanted to be left alone.

"Yelina, call Rescue!" he yelled from the step.

Yelina immediately pulled out her cell phone and waved away the small crowd that had gathered at the curb. They were all curious about the lady as well.

Horatio didn't hesitate to step around the blood-soaked glass and into the small, plain house. Mrs. Johannsen was now a danger to herself and whatever children might be in there. He now had not only a right but a responsibility to go inside her house and offer assistance.

Mrs. Johannsen now lay flailing on her side, desperate to fight her way into the dark living room, away from Horatio, though she knew she couldn't. A trail of blood had followed her from the step all the way along the clean carpet. Her neat grayish-blonde hair, once tied back in a careful bun, had now been mussed up from the struggle. Those sad brown eyes were now fearful as they looked into his blue eyes. Her blood-soaked arms shook.

Gently he knelt down next to her. "Ma'am, the ambulance is on its way. You're gonna need to go to the hospital."

She shook her head, those eyes begging him not to take her away.

He put up his hand and shushed her. "It's all right. I'm Lieutenant Horatio Caine. I'm Yelina Salas's brother-in-law. Ma'am, you're hurt. We have to get you to the hospital."

Yelina stepped into the doorway, also focused on the lady who lay on her side, obviously in pain. "Mrs. Johannsen? The ambulance is on the way." She knelt down on the other side from Horatio. "Where are you having the most pain?"

The woman's eyes looked down toward her leg. Her lips quivered. She was losing control, and she knew it.

"Yelina, I'm afraid she might have a fractured hip. Help me ease her onto her back."

Gently Yelina put her arms under the lady's frail leg and shoulder and eased her onto her back. She winced in pain and squirmed again. Tears of agony rolled down her cheeks, meeting with the blood and falling onto the white-tiled floor.

"I'm sorry, I have to look at your leg." With her hand Yelina carefully pulled up the blue skirt and winced at what she saw. From the calfs to her upper thighs, the woman had some of the most horrible burn scars she had ever seen. Shiny pink, purple blotches just about covered both her legs. Yelina could then see that her left leg sagged unnaturally. "Mrs. Johannsen, I think your hip might be broken. The ambulance is on its way. Do you have anybody I can call?"

The pain and fear had the best of her. She shook her head and began to cry more freely now. Delicately Yelina picked up her blood-stained hands. "The medics are on their way. I need to take your gloves off."

Horatio removed one blood-stained white glove while Yelina removed the other. Those delicate, ladylike hands had yet more scars. Yelina could tell that the burn scars probably went all the way up her arms. She would let the medics do the rest.

Until now the woman's frail hands had only rested in Yelina's grip. Now they clutched her more tightly, almost as though she were suddenly trusting her. Yelina put a hand over hers as she looked down at the burned but delicate hand.

Was that a wedding ring she wore?

Horatio pursed his lips. "Mrs. Johannsen, we need to know. In the note you wrote Yelina, you said something about the children. Ma'am, are there any children living here?"

Slowly the woman turned her eyes toward the dark living room and nodded. She never said a word.

He looked at her quizzically. "Ma'am, your children are in the living room?"

She nodded again.

Yelina watched Horatio as he slowly stood up and flicked on the light switch.

Horatio Caine and Yelina Salas thought they had seen just about everything in their years of police work. But as the ambulance siren drew nearer, both the lieutenant and the P.I. just stared.


	5. Time Stood Still

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: I would like to thank each of you for your reviews and for enjoying. **

* * *

**Chapter 5—Time Stood Still**

Horatio scanned the dark living room warily. "Yelina, the medics want someone to go with Mrs. Johannsen to the hospital. Would you mind? I think I'd better take a closer look at this."

Yelina nodded and then motioned across the street. "Sure. Do you mind watching Ray Jr.?"

"Not in the least."

Yelina had forgotten about the talk she'd had with Horatio as she waited outside the ambulance. Mrs. Johannsen lay on the gurney, looking at the ceiling, seemingly resigned to her fate while two medics hovered over her.

Horatio saw the shadowy figures as he crept into the dark living room. He could see that there were humans in the room, but nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Nobody called out for help. His footsteps were the only sounds in the room now. "Miami-Dade Police!" he called out warily.

Silence. He switched on the light.

The room itself was neat and in order. For a casual observer this living room looked like nothing but a scene on a stage, frozen in time. But having watched Mrs. Johannsen, having pieced together things about her, Horatio knew better. His blue eyes probed every detail. It was obvious to him that someone had gone through a lot of trouble to recreate a moment in time.

The television on the shelf had to be at least twenty-five years old, he reasoned. It was turned off, probably no longer working now that American stations had converted to digital signals.

Horatio found himself standing over a small, very lifelike mannequin that lay on its stomach. A closer look showed that it was a boy who had to be about ten years old. He had neatly combed brown hair and brown eyes. He wore a black sweater and brown corduroy pants. His feet had only socks as though he were comfortable in the house. This little boy was hardly dressed for the warm Florida weather, he thought. And somebody went through a lot of trouble to make sure he looked happy. With his fingers the Lieutenant touched the arm. He certainly felt lifelike. The eyes were fixated on the silent TV screen. With both hands he clutched a joystick, looking like nothing else mattered. Horatio's eyes followed the wires from the joystick to the game console. It was an old Atari amid a nest of wires. The little boy was playing Pong.

For several minutes Horatio just studied this little boy. It meant something that he was posed like that. He then stood up in the silence and walked over to the dining room.

Sitting at the table was another mannequin of a pretty little girl who looked to be about eight. She wore a pretty red sweater and jeans. On her right wrist he recognized several of those old Swatches that were popular back in the eighties. Her brown hair was shoulder length and tied back in a pretty ponytail. She too appeared to be warm, comfortable, smiling.

The table had been set for four people. Biscuits, a soup tureen, dishes of carrots, mashed potatoes, and biscuits all filled the table. With one finger he gently touched the biscuits. Plastic.

Horatio turned around slowly when yet another shadowy figure startled him. Instinctively he patted his hip where his nine millimeter would have been when he realized he was looking at another, more adult-sized mannequin. Slowly he walked over and turned on a light.

He cocked his head at the male figure.

Horatio found himself face to face with the well-dressed man who was smiling as he held a platter with roast turkey, ready to be carved up and enjoyed. He too had neatly-combed brown hair and brown eyes.

The pieces flew together in his head. Everything was here. The old TV set. The old video games. Even Mrs. Johannsen's car. Maybe even the children.

But who—or what—were these mannequins?

Quietly he crept down the hallway. Everything seemed normal enough for a family of four, he thought. The children's bedrooms were neat and clean and arranged with detail, to include the Matchbox cars and posters on the wall. But no computer equipment of any kind. Nothing that a boy in this day and age might have.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at the closet wall.

Someone had nailed boards over the closet door.

This stirred the police officer in him. "Miami-Dade Police! Anybody in there?"

No answer.

He had no choice but to pull the planks off the closet door with his bare hands. They fell off, and he slowly pulled open the door, ready to rescue if need be.

Nothing. Just clothes, shoes, and more toys a ten-year-old boy would have had.

The girl's room looked typical. Dolls and books that an eight-year-old girl might have lined shelves. He found himself staring at the Holly Hobby curtains and bedspread. No computer games or cell phones.

Horatio rubbed his fingers as he slowly opened the closet. Nothing but clothes, shoes, and more dolls that an eight-year-old girl would have.

His blue eyes scanned the hallway as he walked down to the master bedroom.

This lonely woman who apparently lived alone had a queen-sized bed in her room. Makeup and china figures adorned her dressing table, while colognes and a men's jewelry box sat on the other, neatly in their place. Alongside the long-sleeved dresses hung some nice dresses and evening gowns. Suits and ties hung on the other side of the closet. Horatio touched the suits very gently. They were of good quality, belonging to someone who had places to go, he thought.

As seasoned as he was, Horatio suddenly found the silence to be eerie. Haunting.

He stiffened up when his cell phone rang. "Caine."

"Horatio? It's Yelina. I'm in the emergency room at Dade County General. They're taking Mrs. Johannsen into surgery."

"How's she doing?"

Yelina paused. "Not very well. Her hip's definitely broken. She also hit her head in that fall. Can you come and pick me up?"

"Ray Jr. and I will be down there in a few minutes." He then paused. "Has she told you anything?"

"She didn't say a word, but she was able to write some things on a piece of paper while we were waiting." Horatio heard the rustling of paper on the phone. "She's definitely Adelaide Johannsen. Horatio, is there anyone else in that house?"

He paused and looked back into the living room. "No."

"What were those—"

"I'll explain when I get there."

"Hospital's trying to contact her next of kin. She's hurt badly, but she was able to write down that she wanted you to come see her tomorrow morning. She should be out of surgery by then."

"I will."

"And…." Yelina paused. "She wrote down 'Bring large white book'."

The Lieutenant nodded. "A large white book?"

"That's all. She can't or won't speak."

"I'll look around. Yelina, I'll go get Ray Jr. and be there as soon as I can."

"Thanks Horatio."

He snapped his phone shut.

The silent living room wall had a massive collection of books—encyclopedias, old novels, law books, and commentaries. He scanned the shelves. "This must be it." He pulled a large white photo album off the shelf and looked at the cover.

STEVEN AND ADELAIDE JOHANNSEN  
JUNE 23, 1977

He opened the cover. Staring back at him was a much younger Adelaide Johannsen, beautiful as she could be in a wedding gown fit for royalty. Next to her was a picture of a young Steven Johannsen in a black tux with a silver tie.

"Wait a minute." Horatio tipped his head up. The mannequin.

Holding the album open, he studied the picture before looking at the smiling man in the living room again.

"So you must be Steven Johannsen."

He knew Yelina was waiting, but he just had to look through more of the pictures. Questions were being answered now.

He looked down at the mannequins at the table and on the floor.

"And I guess you must be Joshua" he said, looking at the happy little boy. He then walked over and studied the little girl. "And you must be Elizabeth."

He flipped through the pages a little further. A strange, familiar smell came up from the photos. He put his nose to the pages.

Smoke.

Immediately he opened his cell phone and hit the speed dial. "Yelina? It's Horatio. I'm on my way with Ray Jr. Tell the nurse that I have some answers."


	6. Things That Were Lost in the Fire

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**Chapter 6—Things That Were Lost in the Fire**

Photo album in hand, Horatio and Yelina stepped off the elevator at Dade County General. "She's in Room 520" Yelina said.

Slowly and quietly Horatio and Yelina approached the doorway to Room 520. In contrast to the noise in the clean white hallway, this room was silent.

Gently Horatio tapped on the open door. "Mrs. Johannsen? Ma'am?"

The lady lay silently in the hospital bed, eyes closed. She wore a nasal canula and an IV line to her badly scarred hand. Her head was bandaged. Butterfly bandages covered her arms and legs from where glass had rained down on her. Judging from the lumps under the blanket, her hip had been set in surgery. Those red and purple burn scars were much more noticeable in the room's brightness. She was probably still sedated, obviously unaware of their presence.

"I wonder if we should wait for her to wake up" Yelina whispered.

Horatio nodded. "Let's wait." Quietly he sat down in the chair beside the bed. Yelina silently pulled up another chair and sat down next to him.

Except for the clicking of an IV monitor, there were no other sounds in the room. Neither wanted to admit it, but there was something that was drawing them to this sad, lonely, disfigured woman.

Yelina found herself having a strange sympathy. It was clear that this woman was sad and lonely too. "So what were all those mannequins in her house?" she finally asked.

"Her family" he said matter-of factly.

Yelina furrowed her eyebrows. "Her family?"

He patted the photo album. "I'll explain."

"What do you think happened, Horatio?" she whispered.

The Lieutenant held the white photo album up to Yelina. "Smell that."

She leaned forward and took a whiff. "Hmm. Smells like smoke. Like a…house fire?"

"Exactly." He now balanced the huge book on his knee and opened it. "I think you'll find everything you want to know right here." He flipped through some pages while Yelina looked on.

The photo album looked like any old white album. But it was hard to miss that some of the photos were singed. Melted. Yellowed. Yet preserved as preciously as ever.

Horatio had flipped almost all the way to the end to a page that didn't have a damaged photo. "I found this. Take a look at the date."

"December 1986."

_Minnesota Senator-Elect and Family Die in Tragic House Fire_

_United States Senator-Elect Steven Johannsen and his family perished in a fire on Thanksgiving Day. A young rising star on the political scene, at age thirty-three, Senator-Elect Johannsen would have been the youngest sitting United States Senator. In a tragic turn of events, the young Senator-Elect and his family perished in a house fire while enjoying Thanksgiving dinner in their Minnesota home. The cause of the tragedy remains under investigation. His wife Adelaide and their two children Joshua Michael and Elizabeth also died. Governor Rudy Perpich is expected to appoint a replacement. The family will be honored in a private burial. Details for a state funeral service are pending at this time. _

Yelina nodded. "But didn't it say the whole family died in that fire?"

"It did."

She could feel her suspicions rising now. "Everyone except Mrs. Johannsen."

Horatio turned more pages. "This might tell you who those mannequins were."

Yelina's brown eyes scanned the page. In the smoke-stained photo, a happy, healthy Steven and Adelaide Johannsen with their children, waved from a podium, surrounded by cameras, ecstatic about winning the senatorial race, ready to take on anything the world might throw at them.

The P.I. reached over and flipped more pages. Joshua Michael stood proudly with his baseball team. Elizabeth loved to play with her dolls. Mrs. Johannsen sat elegantly with some other ladies at luncheons. This certainly seemed like a close-knit family who loved one another and could hold up well in the Washington spotlight.

"Those figures in the living room? They looked exactly like her family. Perfect in every detail, all the way down to the freckles on little Elizabeth's face." He lowered his head at the memory. "Yelina, I looked at each one of those mannequins myself. Somebody was very careful to capture a moment in time. Every detail." The pieces flew together in his head now. "Like Thanksgiving Day 1986. In Minnesota."

"Like—"

"Excuse me!" a voice snapped from the doorway. Horatio and Yelina looked up from the album. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Can I help you?" Startled, Horatio narrowed his eyes at the voice.

In the doorway stood a suited man with a red leather folder. He looked to be in his mid thirties. He was obviously not too pleased about finding strangers here. He paced in and glared at them suspiciously.

Horatio sensed the threatening tone in his voice. Slowly he stood up, ready to meet this man halfway. "Sir, my name's Horatio Caine. I'm a Lieutenant with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab" he said firmly. "And who are you?"

The man softened his look when he realized he was speaking to a police officer. But not for long. "I represent this lady's interests. Does this have anything to do with the accident? Because if it was, I already spoke to the police. Otherwise there's nothing more to talk about."

Yelina stood up slowly. "I live across the street from her. We came to help her when she fell last night."

The man had a less piercing glare now. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He surveyed the room. "Look, the doctors told me everything. I'm sure you have a lot of questions. Mrs. Johannsen isn't doing anything illegal."

Yelina stiffened up when she felt a frail, cold hand on her wrist.

Mrs. Johannsen watched her. Those brown eyes were tired from the surgery and from the painkillers. But they were as sad as ever.

The man set down his red folder and leaned toward the lady. "Addie. How you feeling, Dear?"

She didn't acknowledge him. But slowly, tiredly, painfully, she brought her other hand up to cover Yelina's hand.

There were no words. First the lady looked at Yelina sadly, longingly, gratefully. Then she looked at Horatio the same way.

Horatio dipped his head. "I'm glad you're still here, Mrs. Johannsen" were the only words he could manage. Those eyes had the ability to pierce even his tough soul. With one hand she slowly, weakly reached over and gripped Horatio's hand. He responded by gently gripping her fingers in a reassuring gesture that it would be all right. That they would be there for her.

The once guarded man now stood with his hands on his hips, just watching his charge. "So you were the ones. You saved her life last night."

"Just doing what neighbors do, Mr.—"

"Barber. Cal Barber. I'm her attorney. My father worked with her husband." He reached over and shook Horatio's free hand. "Look, Addie's been through hell and back, and I'm just watching out for her."

"As you should be."

The lady said nothing, only watching with those sad brown eyes.

"Look, Addie likes her space, but she didn't do anything illegal." He nodded at the old photo album. "I see you found it. So you know everything, huh?"

"Just one thing, Mr. Barber. Did anyone determine the cause of that fire?"

"Started in the chimney. That's what the fire department said." He looked into his client's sad eyes. "Fire spread so quickly nobody had a chance to get out. It was Thanksgiving. Addie, or Mrs. Johannsen, had to go buy some more milk, and by the time she came back the house was fully engulfed. Addie, you said could hear Elizabeth screaming. But you still ran into the house to try to save them." He looked into her eyes as though to let her know he still thought it was foolish.

"Probably what any mother would do" Yelin assured him.

Horatio thought for a moment. "Mr. Barber, I'm a crime scene investigator, and something caught my attention in particular. I walked through the house after Mrs. Johannsen got taken away in the ambulance. In the boy's room I noticed there were boards nailed over the door of the closet. Is there any significance to that?"

"Yes, there is. I looked at the fire department's investigation. Joshua Michael hid in his bedroom closet when the fire started. They found him in there."

"The news article said that the whole family perished in the fire" Horatio insisted.

He shrugged. "They were wrong. Addie barely survived."

Yelina gently let go of the cold, frail hand. "I think we've taken enough of their time, Horatio. Maybe we better go now."

As she started to stand up, the hand reached back up and gripped her more tightly. Yelina looked at the woman's eyes. Though she said no words, Yelina could read those eyes. The woman then trembled and tightened her mouth. Yelina, Horatio, and Cal Barber all leaned closer to her.

"S-s-s-tayy" she whispered desperately. "P-p-lease…s-s-tay."


	7. Deep Within My Soul

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: Contains minor spoilers for _Blood Brothers _and _The Oath_. **

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**Chapter 7—Deep Within My Soul**

For just a few minutes, Horatio and Cal Barber looked on as the lady gently held Yelina's hand and watched her with those eyes. She seemed to speak volumes without saying a word.

"Officer Caine, I was sort of wondering whether you and I could get a cup of coffee downstairs" Cal said deliberately. He nodded toward the hospital bed. "I get the feeling Addie would like to be alone with your sister-in-law for a little while."

Horatio sensed the tone in his voice immediately. Experience told him Cal wanted to discuss something. Away from curious ears.

"Mr. Barber, I'd like that. Yelina, why don't you stay with Mrs. Johannsen for a while? We'll bring you some café cubano from downstairs."

Yelina nodded with a polite smile. "That would be fine. Mrs. Johannsen, would you like anything?"

With weak, tired hands, Mrs. Johannsen gestured as though she were writing. Cal instinctively pulled a pen and yellow pad out of his folder and handed them to her. Slowly and deliberately she scrawled while her guests watched. She then handed him the pad.

_It's been a long time since I've had a double cappuccino._

The attorney nodded. "A café cubano and a double cappuccino. You got it. Ladies, we'll see you in a few minutes."

Satisfied that they were well out of earshot, Cal Barber lowered his head. "Okay, Officer Caine. I'd know that look anywhere."

"What look, Mr. Barber?"

"Talk to me. Do you think something might have happened?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Was this case ever investigated? Thoroughly?"

The lawyer opened his mouth while putting his hands in his pockets, telling Horatio he wasn't completely sure. "The local fire department investigated and said that the fire was caused by a crack in the chimney." He looked up and down the hallways. "Except…."

"Except what?"

"Officer Caine, I-"

"Horatio."

"Horatio, I always had this nagging suspicion. The chimney in that house should have been fine. Steven had it inspected every year, inside and out. See, in Minnesota, you want your chimney in good shape, because God knows you're gonna use it eight months out of the year. We all figured the inspector missed something or it cracked later."

"Did the Johannsens have any enemies?"

He sniffed. "Horatio, he was a brand new young senator, a dark horse. Took the nomination by storm and won by a landslide that year. Now, in politics you always have enemies."

"In my field, Mr. Barber, we call that motive."

The young attorney looked at him for a few minutes. "You know, Addie isn't just my charge. Like I said, my father worked with Steven on the campaign. I knew Josh and Lizzie. We went to the same school in Oakley. Steven had a job for my dad as a senatorial staffer. We were all going to Washington. But when they died, it's like the whole town died." He looked down the hall toward the open door. "Since the official ruling was an accident, nobody investigated it further. Saw no reason to."

"Can you get me the case file?"

"No problem. Gonna take some time, though. The case was closed in 1987."

"Mr. Barber, we have forensics technology that wasn't available in 1986. And you know there's no statute of limitations for murder. Yelina is a private investigator. I need the names of everyone on Steven Johannsen's staff as well as who he ran against in that campaign. I'll also need the names of the other candidate's staff."

Without another word, the young attorney took out his cell phone and hit the speed dial. "Dad, it's Cal. Yeah, I'm in Florida. Look, we can discuss all that later. I need you to do something for me."

Horatio held his hand out. "Give me the phone."

Cal Barber watched his determined blue eyes as he handed him the cell phone.

"This is Lieutenant Horatio Caine with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. Whom am I speaking with? Yes, Mr. Barber, I was talking with your son, and I was hoping you could contact the police department in the town where the Johannsen fire occurred. Oakley, Minnesota? Something just doesn't seem right. I agree. Perhaps you can contact the Minneapolis Forensics Lab. I'll have my A/V tech set up a video conference. There's a lady here in Miami who might like to know the truth about what happened that day."

* * *

Yelina sat quietly with the lady, both of them with their eyes on the open door. Finally Mrs. Johannsen reached up with weak, tired hands and made a gesture.

"What is it?" Yelina wanted to know.

She weakly held out her bandaged, burned arm, motioning for the pen and pad. Yelina handed them to her. Slowly and weakly she scrawled on the pad and showed it to the P.I.

_What's going on between your brother-in-law and Cal?_

She looked at the message and then at Mrs. Johannsen. "I don't understand."

She held her hands out. Yelina handed the pen and paper to her again and watched as she scrawled again and handed the pad to her.

_Just because I have trouble speaking doesn't mean I'm an idiot. _

"Nobody here thinks you're an idiot. _Can_ you speak?"

Weakly she waved her finger over the purple scar on her throat. Yelina looked carefully. Mrs. Johannsen had a faint scar about two inches long. She then held out her hands again. Yelina now instinctively handed her the pen and pad. This time she merely leaned over and read what Mrs. Johannsen had written.

_My vocal chords were damaged in an accident. _

"I see."

_I noticed how your brother-in-law looks at you. How you look at him. There's more there than just a familial tie, isn't there? If it's not too bold of me to ask, where is your husband?_

Yelina simply dipped her head. Those sad, desperate brown eyes were now probing. Thoughtful. Reading her like a book. She wrote again.

_You're widowed as well, aren't you?_

She nodded with a sadness about her as she looked into the lady's eyes.

Mrs. Johannsen didn't have to speak or write. Those eyes just somehow seemed to read her soul. Yelina felt as though this sad, quiet, eccentric woman could just look into her eyes and download sympathy or the deepest thoughts into anyone's mind. For some odd reason, Yelina didn't feel embarrassment or resentment when she spoke to her. It was almost like kneeling in the silent church with her great aunt again. Someone was listening.

_Have you told your brother-in-law how you feel about him?_

"Many times. The problem is, well, I'm still his brother's wife, and I just don't think he'll ever go beyond that." She paused. "You know, one day he told me that if Raymond and I hadn't met, then we, well….."

Mrs. Johannsen didn't answer. Those brown eyes just kept probing her soul, downloading a strange sympathy.

Yelina dipped her head and let her curls fall around her face. "You know, I loved Raymond Caine, Horatio's brother. And then when I thought he was dead—" She looked back into the brown eyes. "He was an undercover cop. It's a long story. I knew that Horatio was looking out for family. He always does that. He's been there for my son, and he's been there for me." She looked away. "Have you ever been mad at someone and done something?" She smiled a little now. "I think in America we call it 'cutting off your nose to spite your face'? Well, I did that when Horatio still wouldn't be with me. I dated a co-worker of his that was his rival."

_Fear, anger and resentment cause smart people to do things they wouldn't ordinarily. _

"I guess you're right. It turned out to be a big mistake. When I found out Raymond was still alive, we went to Brazil. But then Raymond died for real. Now I'm back with my son. I'd like to start a new life with Horatio. But I'm still his brother's wife and always will be, I guess. While we were in Brazil he married his co-worker's sister. But she was killed the day they were married."

_That's horrible._

"Yes it is." She looked down. "But now that Raymond's gone, I'm back in Miami. I'm working as a private investigator." In spite of herself, she sighed and looked away. "I'm behind on the bills. Ray Jr. is lonely." She smiled sadly and shook her head. "I really don't know why I'm telling you all this."

Yelina didn't understand why this once fearful, guarded, sad woman who had surrounded herself with her last moment of happiness in 1986 had now taken a strange interest in her. It was almost as though she felt instantly comfortable with her and Horatio. Like she knew they could be trusted after they saved her life. But those eyes just begged her to be comfortable with her. To feel comfortable with her deepest, darkest secrets. She paused while the lady wrote again.

_Yelina, we ladies are notorious for letting our feelings get in the way of rational judgment. That's why I say that fear, anger and resentment sometimes make us do foolish things. _

"Yes, I know."

_But be careful, Yelina. So can self pity. _


	8. On a Cold November Day

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**Chapter 8—On a Cold November Day**

"Here you go, Ladies. One café cubano and one double cappuccino."

Yelina smiled as Horatio and Cal Barber came through the door, a white-sleeved cup in each hand. Mrs. Johannsen's brown eyes followed them. Cal reached down and carefully placed the coffee cup into her frail, burn-scarred hand. She nodded in thanks. Everyone watched her as she took a sip. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

"Good?" Cal asked.

She nodded.

The two gentlemen sat silently and watched the ladies for several more minutes.

"So I trust you two got to know each other?" Yelina said, finally breaking the silence.

"We did." He then put down his coffee and slid his chair closer to the hospital bed. "Mrs. Johannsen, I wonder whether I might ask you some questions."

Slowly those eyes met his.

He held his hands together while Cal slid her pen and pad within her reach. Those soft, compassionate brown eyes darted between her guests. Something wasn't quite right.

"Mrs. Johannsen, I know this isn't going to be easy. But I'm also a crime scene investigator. After you were taken away in the ambulance, I saw the details of how you laid out your house. You were obviously trying to capture a moment in time. Am I correct?"

She nodded.

"Was it Thanksgiving Day of 1986? Before the fire?"

She looked toward the floor and nodded again.

He watched her. She slowly and weakly scrawled on her pen and pad and showed it to him.

_I get the feeling there's something you want to tell me. _

Those eyes. Horatio knew there would be no easy way. So few crime victims could pierce his soul like this lady and those brown eyes. "You're right. Ma'am, I can't help but think the fire might not have been an accident."

The ensuing silence was deafening. Cal started looking around uncomfortably.

Finally the woman closed her eyes and wiped away a tear.

The young attorney stood up. "I don't know that this is a good idea. Addie, we can do this another time. Why don't you get some sleep?"

The tearful brown eyes suddenly took on a new determination. She put up her hand to him and shook her head. Cal stopped as she wrote again.

_Officer Caine, I would give anything to find out what happened to Steven and my babies. _

The Lieutenant nodded while Cal Barber watched.

"Mrs. Johannsen, I want you to take your time. Write down everything you remember about that day. No detail is too small."

The fearful, reclusive woman that had hidden from everyone seemed to be a different person now, more determined as she kept writing. Occasionally a tear rolled down her face and she wiped it away as she paused to think. She would close her eyes as if to remember details. But she wrote and flipped pages for what seemed a long time. Finally she handed the pad to Horatio, those brown eyes looking at him expectantly. Yelina and Cal Barber looked on.

_Steven and I were cooking Thanksgiving dinner together. We had the fireplace going so Lizzie and Joshua Michael could roast marshmallows later. At about four in the afternoon I discovered we were out of milk. The family said it was all right, that they would do without somehow, but I insisted on walking up the block to the Pick N Pack to get more. No other store was open. It was about twenty-five degrees, and there was some snow on the ground. I chatted with the store clerk for a little while. I don't even remember his name, and lost track of the time. He had worked at the store for years. He congratulated us on the election. I was perhaps a hundred feet from the house when I saw black smoke rising. I dropped the grocery bag and ran the rest of the way to the house. It was our house that was on fire. Flames were rising up from around the chimney at the back of the house and had begun to come out through the side windows on the first floor. I ran as fast as I could to the house. I heard a strange popping sound, almost like someone popping a balloon. I thought I heard screaming. I called for Steven and the kids. I know it was foolish, but I ran into the house because I couldn't find them. The house was full of smoke and fire, so I couldn't see. _

Horatio looked into those eyes. "Mrs. Johannsen, you were only trying to look out for your family."

Her hands reached out. He handed her the pen and pad again. All three watched while she wrote with a new determination.

_I'd say that when I ran inside the living room and the kitchen were twenty-five percent engulfed, so I thought I had time to find the family. I kept calling for Steven and my kids, but I couldn't see and I couldn't breathe. I felt something pull me from behind. I then felt the pain in my throat. Sometimes I wonder if someone else wasn't in the house. After that the fire started to spread much more quickly, and even with the pain in my throat, I knew I had to save myself. I fell on the carpet, which was also starting to burn. I pulled myself with my arms along that burning carpet and made it out the side door. At first I felt that horrible pain when I pulled myself across that carpet, but then I felt nothing. I couldn't hear Steven or my babies anymore. I don't remember anything from when I crawled out of the house to when I woke up in the hospital. Just that I was in the burn unit in Minneapolis. _

The lieutenant furrowed his eyebrows at her. "Mrs. Johannsen, you say you wonder if someone else was in the house. You got pulled from behind." His eyes then fell on the mark on her throat. "A pain in your throat." He moved forward and examined the purple mark on her neck. "May I?"

She nodded gently. With his finger he carefully touched the line on her neck. "Mrs. Johannsen, did the doctors say anything about your throat?"

The lady shook her head sadly.

"That's okay. Try to remember the part about being pulled from behind. Close your eyes if you have to. Take as much time as you need."

Those sad brown eyes closed. Everyone watched her expectantly. With a weak, tired hand, she clutched her neck and grimaced. Horatio and Yelina recognized her body language. Someone had tried to kill her in the middle of that fire.

_There was someone else in the house, wasn't there? For so many years I wondered. _

He lowered his eyes. This poor woman had been through enough. "That's what I would like to find out."

Slowly and gently she massaged her neck. Another tear ran out of her eye. She pointed to the white photo album. Cal Barber reached it and laid it gently on her lap as she raised the back of her hospital bed. Flipping through the pages, she gently motioned for Horatio and Yelina to look on. She pointed to a picture of herself sitting in front of a kindergarten class with a large, colorful book.

_Adelaide Johannsen, the wife of Minnesota State Senator Steven Johannsen, reads "T'was the Night Before Christmas" to the Oakley Elementary School. Adelaide Johannsen has been recognized by President Reagan for her "America Reads" initiative. _

She then flipped several more pages and motioned to another picture. Here she was standing in front of a lectern, proud and confident.

_Adelaide Johannsen gives the keynote speech to the spouses of the Minnesota Bar Association. _

As he looked over Yelina's shoulder, Cal Barber had a sadness about him. He watched his charge take a deep breath. She was obviously getting tired from all the thinking and the writing.

_Please tell me what happened that night wasn't an accident? Please tell me what happened? _

"We're gonna do our best" Yelina promised, putting a hand on her burn-scarred arm.

"Yes Ma'am" Horatio agreed. "Yelina and I would like to work with Mr. Barber and the Minneapolis forensics lab. We have technologies that weren't available in 1986. But we'll need your permission so Mr. Barber can reopen the case."

_I'll sign anything you like. _

"I'll take care of it. First thing tomorrow morning" Cal promised. "I know what to do and who to call."

_Do you think I would have made a good Senator's wife?_

Horatio smiled. "Ma'am, I see the look in your eyes when you were reading to those children. You weren't just playing politics."

Mrs. Johannsen couldn't smile. But those brown eyes said it all.

_I'm very tired. Do you mind if I sleep?_

"Not at all. Yelina, I think we should leave these two alone."

Cal stood up. "Actually, I'm gonna follow you out." He clasped the woman's hand. "Addie, why don't I come check on you later?"

_I would appreciate that._ She then motioned to Horatio and Yelina.

"What is it, Ma'am?" Horatio wanted to know.

_Before I left the house I kissed my husband and my babies goodbye. Even though I was just going up the street. It embarrassed my babies, but I'm at peace with that._

"As you should, Ma'am" Horatio said.

The lady never took her eyes off Horatio as she tore off a piece of paper and handed it to him. She was determined to make a point.

_Horatio and Yelina, even if you go just up the street to buy a gallon of milk, you should always tell that person that you love them. You never know whether that's the last time you'll ever see them again. _


	9. Send Me an Angel

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**Chapter 9—Send Me An Angel**

Cal Barber opened the door. "Horatio? Yelina? Thanks for coming by. Come on in."

The Lieutenant and the P.I. looked around them at the small, modest law office that Cal had in the back of his house. It looked like he had just recently moved in as well. Stacks of folders lay on top of an old, scratched metal filing cabinet. A framed Minnesota Bar license lay on his dusty brown desk, looking like it was ready to be nailed up.

"Sorry about the mess. I thought this would be a good place to talk. Office space is a little pricey in Miami, and since Addie's my only real client, I figured this would do." He motioned toward the coffee pot and box of cookies on a small table toward the back. "Any of you like some coffee? Just made another pot."

"I'm fine, thanks" Horatio said as he put up his hand.

"Me too" Yelina said with a polite smile.

He nodded, satisfied. "I'm actually a family law attorney, but when I agreed to be Addie's trustee, I guess you could say it became a full-time job. I'm sort of doing it as a favor to the family, and she insists on paying me well. She's the reason I'm here in Florida." He pointed to two gray chairs in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat. By the way, I just got my endorsement from the Florida Bar. Just have to hang it up on my wall. I appreciate your coming to talk with me here. Addie's hearing is just fine; probably better than it should be."

Horatio nodded. "So Mr. Barber, what have you found out about reopening the case?"

The young attorney breathed deeply as he put his hands together in thought. "Got my father working on it. He's rattling some cages in Saint Paul." He softened his look a little. "You know, a lot of people loved Steven. And a lot of people hated him too. I mean, before that senatorial campaign, nobody outside of the Twin Cities had ever heard of him. Then he gave a speech at a party convention, and he ended up getting the bid for the Senate seat. But he stepped on a lot of toes, too."

Horatio and Yelina listened carefully.

"I'd like to find out whose toes he stepped on" Horatio finally said. "Sounds to me like some people had motive."

He nodded. "See, that's the thing. When Steven died, the Governor was more than willing to let Addie have the seat, and between you and me, she would have been a brilliant senator. But well, she spent almost six months in the Minneapolis burn unit and in rehab. Nobody expected her to survive this, and just between us? Nobody expected her to live this long."

"Is somebody gonna be with her at home, Mr. Barber?" Yelina wanted to know.

"That's one of the things I wanted to tell you. She's not going home. I'm working with the hospital right now. She's transferring to a rehab center and probably in a nursing home or assisted living. It's not looking like she'll be able to walk anytime soon."

"But it's just her hip, right?"

He shook his head sadly. "It's a lot more than just her hip. Been for a long time."

Yelina looked down. She couldn't help but look at Horatio now. "What else is wrong? Besides the burns?"

"Well, because of the burns, her immune system is pretty weak. She's on medications for that. Also, she won't go to a doctor and get it checked out, but I think it's her heart, too. Wouldn't be surprised if all she's been through hasn't taken its toll on her. I tried to tell her this move to Florida wouldn't be a good idea, but she insisted she wanted to be as far away from Minnesota, from the cold, and as far away from chimneys as possible, and well, this is just about as far south from all those things as you can get."

"So that house will be vacant again. She didn't live there very long" Yelina observed.

"No, she didn't. And that's where I was going to ask your help." Cal put on his reading glasses as his brown eyes scanned a printed page. "My father says there should be no problem reopening the case. Right now we're collaborating to get a court order for your crime lab to look over the house. Just in case there might be anything in there that would be useful in finding out what really happened." He handed the papers to the Horatio. "After that, well, I guess I'll see about cleaning it out and putting it back on the market again."

The redheaded Lieutenant took the pages and scanned them. "I'll have the crime lab out there as soon as I can, Mr. Barber."

"One last thing" he said, reaching through his folders. "Yelina, I understand you're a PI."

"Yes, I am."

"Addie specifically requested your services in tracking down some leads." He handed her a folder.

She smoothed back her hair as she opened it, but then she stiffened up as she held up a brown check. "Are you sure?"

A smile crossed the attorney's face. "That's the first payment in advance. She insisted. She also said that if you need more, don't hesitate to call."

She showed the brown check to Horatio. "Well, I think that'll cover it" he agreed.

Cal studied their faces. "Don't worry. At first look she's just a poor, crazy old lady; I know. But she came from a well-to-do family, as did Steve. And the insurance checks on the house and Steve's life insurance were quite a bit as well."

Yelina tucked the check into her purse. "Please tell her I said thank you. She didn't have to do this."

Hands in pockets, he looked across the desk to them for a moment. "I don't think you know what a difference both of you made in her life. I mean, when Steven and the children died, she kind of died, too. The Party forgot about her. The media forgot about her. She really tried to get back into the political circle, but it was just like something was gone. I'm the closest thing to family she has. She moved several times, and everywhere she went, she was just some crazy old hermit lady. The time she tried to speak to you, Yelina? She _never_ speaks! Not even for me, and I grew up with her kids! But now with this case being reopened? God, I haven't seen that light in her eyes since Steven won the election." He smiled distantly. "Yelina, when she moved here, she figured she was just gonna live out her days with those mannequins in that house. Just keep reliving that time before the fire and then die alone. And then you reached out to her. You helped save her life, and now there's hope that we can find out what really happened. I'll tell you what. Nobody really believed that fire was just an accident."

Horatio stood up. "Well, I guess we'd better get started."

The attorney stood up with them and shook each of their hands. "I'll call you."

* * *

It was late at night. The light of Yelina's monitor reflected back into her eyes as she tapped on her keyboard.

Horatio sat down beside her with another glass of homemade lemonade. "I think that check should cover your bills" he said.

"Already deposited it. Gonna get Ray Jr. some new shoes. He's been needing them for a while." Yelina looked at him and smiled. "She's such a sweet lady. How could anybody think she's strange?"

"As CSI's we learn that nothing is ever as it seems."

Slowly Yelina turned toward him, and, in the light of the computer monitor, she slid her hand toward his. He found himself grasping it. Gently she kissed his cheek. Just like she did the day Horatio had found Raymond's killer.

Horatio didn't look at her in bewilderment this time. Those blue eyes met hers as he grasped her delicate fingers.

"Things worked out really well, Horatio" she almost whispered.

"Yes, they did."

"We're gonna be working together. Just like old times."

"I'm looking forward to that."

"So am I."

This time Horatio didn't shrink back. Holding a hand to her face, he slowly leaned forward and kissed her. Softly at first, and then again and again, finally deepening his kiss. Yelina wrapped her hands around him as she let her curls cover his arms. His kisses were real and tasted wonderful, she thought. There were no other sounds in the room except their breathing.

For what seemed a long, long time, Yelina simply held onto him as he tenderly caressed her back. The prayer that she had long forgotten about now came back to her mind.

But as she closed her eyes in the silence, she thought she could clearly see that shadowy figure standing in the darkness. Wearing that hat, full sleeves, and white gloves. She smiled.

"What are you thinking about?" Horatio whispered into her hair.

"This is an answer to a prayer."


	10. Cross Jurisdictions

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**Chapter 10—Cross Jurisdictions**

Dave Benton dutifully watched the computer screen as he clicked keys. "Got 'em on now."

Horatio stood next to the ponytailed A/V tech and faced the monitor. "Thank you, Mr. Benton. This is Lieutenant Horatio Caine with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. Am I speaking with Dr. Singletary?"

The man on camera had black hair, glasses, and spoke with a thick Minnesota accent. "Lieutenant Caine. Dr. Michael Singletary with the Twin Cities Crime Lab. I'm glad we could finally talk. Just curious. What's the temperature there in Miami?"

Horatio smiled. "Seventy-five degrees."

"Fifteen here."

"Something I don't miss about New York." He now leaned forward and held his pen. "First, I want to thank you for working with us in reopening the Johannsen case."

"This made front page news all over the state, Lieutenant. Was quite a shock to a lot of people." He patted a white evidence box. "Unfortunately, right now we don't have a lot to go on. It's your garden variety cold case. Witnesses have since moved or died. The property itself was bulldozed and is overgrown now."

"Dr Singletary, a family is dead, and there's a lady here in Miami who would like to know the truth. And if there is a killer on the loose, it's never too late to bring him to justice."

"I agree. You know, Senator Johannsen was pretty popular, especially in that part of the state. So how can we help?"

"Why don't we look at the evidence and determine how the fire department ruled this an accident?"

The man flipped through some pages. "I'm reading a certified copy of the fire chief's report here. It says that the fire started in the chimney, in the forward area adjacent to the living room wall. It was a standard brick and mortar chimney. Inspector determined that there was a weak spot in the mortar."

"Photos?"

"The task bar on the bottom of your screen. Click on the icon on the left. We digitally enhanced all of these photos."

With his fingertip, Dave moved the icons while Horatio watched. Several black-and white-photos came to life on the screen.

"First photo's on your left, my right. If you look here, this was the point of origin."

Horatio studied the charred wall. "How high up is that from the floor?"

"Seven feet, ten inches. Too high up for any normal human being to reach from the living room."

The Lieutenant made a circular motion. "Dave, get a close-up of that area."

Dave touched the picture and zoomed in.

"Dr. Singletary, is that an indent in the wall at the point of origin?"

"It is. It's bowl-shaped, and we estimated that it's about two inches deep."

"So maybe that area couldn't be reached from the living room. How about inside the chimney? Why would there be an indentation there?"

"That's a good question. In chimney fires that are caused by a weakness in the mortar, there would normally be a pushing-out of the wall, not an indentation."

Horatio could feel his suspicions rising. "I'm told that the fire spread too quickly for the Johannsens to get out. Yet Mrs. Johannsen was able to go inside and barely get out alive."

"That's my understanding as well. If you click on the icon to the right of the photos I downloaded, you'll see that our computer lab ran a time lapse of what happened in the house."

Dave pulled up the next icon. The screen came to life with a blueprints of the Johannsen house.

"We scanned in the original blueprints of the Johannsen house. In the top right is a timer that shows how quickly the fire spread. Bear in mind that this was 1986. No smoke detectors, and the furniture was polyurethane foam. Banned for sale in Minnesota in 1990."

Horatio nodded. "Yes, because of its flammability. Play that footage, Dave."

"Here is where the fire started. Once it penetrated the wall it reached the ceiling and flashed over quickly. It was that flashover that caused the drapes and the furniture to ignite. Now as you know, the polyurethane foam causes toxic fumes. Not just that, but the inside of the house heated up pretty quickly."

Horatio simply stared at the time-lapsed diagram.

"Lieutenant?"

"What was the COD for Steven Johannsen, Doctor?"

There was a long pause at the other end.

"Dr. Singletary?"

The man flipped through more pages. "Lieutenant Caine, because the fire was ruled an accident, everybody just assumed smoke inhalation." His voice sounded weak. This didn't sit right with him either.

Horatio sounded more determined now. "And the children?"

"Same thing."

"How old was Joshua Michael?"

"Ten. Elizabeth was eight."

"The report stated that Joshua's body was found in his bedroom closet."

"That's right."

"Dr. Singletary, hiding in the closet from a fire is more normal behavior for a child under five. In their minds, if they can't see the fire, the fire can't get to them. Are there any autopsy photos?"

"Give me a moment. I have to scan and download them."

"I'll wait."

Horatio's blue eyes probed every detail of the fire photos—the direction of the fire, the rooms, the area around the chimney, and even the children's rooms.

"Okay, Lieutenant Caine. Click on the icon to the right of the computer analysis."

Horatio clicked on the link. Every detail of the bodies looked like they had died from smoke inhalation. "Dr. Singletary, there's just one thing that bothers me."

"How can I help?"

"I spoke with Mrs. Johannsen. As you know, she was gone from the house when the fire started. She'd gone down the street to get a gallon of milk. According to her, when she came back, she realized it was their house that was completely in flames. According to the time lapse program, from the point of origin the fire took several minutes before the fire would flash over and become deadly. Steven and the kids could have gotten out of that house in time."

"I'd think so. The fire was in plain sight, and they could have easily gotten out."

"She tells me that she thinks there was someone else in the house. She said that she heard screaming and couldn't see her family, so she ran into the house to find them. When she was in the living room, she reported being pulled from behind. The doctor at Dade County General has confirmed that Mrs. Johannsen was indeed stabbed in the throat."

Dr. Singletary looked more troubled as he put his hand to his chin. "Hold on." He thumbed through more pages. "Eyewitnesses said there was a blue car parked across the street and down the block about the time of the fire. Nobody thought anything about it, being Thanksgiving and all. But they paid particular attention to this one because somebody was sitting in it."

"Nobody got a license number?"

"Neighbor said it was a blue 1980 Chevy Monza with a Canadian license plate."

There was silence in both labs for a few minutes.

"Who made the 911 call?" Horatio finally asked.

"It was actually a different neighbor. He smelled the smoke and at first thought someone had an outdoor firepit going, but then he heard explosions."

"Dr. Singletary, where are the bodies now?"

"Buried at the Thief River Cemetery."

Horatio watched the screen thoughtfully. "What else did you want to tell me?"

His brown eyes darted between the pages and the screen. "I'm scanning through the case. It seems like the investigation was stopped."

"Why?"

"Doesn't say. It looks like the findings just come to an abrupt end."

"Dr. Singletary, I'm going to meet with Mrs. Johannsen. I'd like for your forensics team to go back and sift through that property. No detail is too small."

"I can arrange that."

"Also, I need the name of the company who cleaned their chimney as well as who was in charge of that investigation. I would also like to see about having the bodies exhumed. I think they can tell us what someone might be hiding."


	11. Skeletons

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: Italics in the second section indicate radio announcements.**

* * *

**Chapter 11—Skeletons**

Yelina couldn't help but look around as she tapped down the hallway. In her mind, nursing homes were always supposed to be dank and dreary, she thought; a warehouse in which an old, sick, lonely old widow would live out her days. Instead, this one was bright, airy and cheery with yellows and greens and large windows to let in Florida's beauty. Of course, it was also a rehabilitation center, a stop along the way so that anyone needing long-term physical therapy wouldn't be in the hospital for quite so long. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed some teenage boys on crutches who looked to be about Ray Jr.'s age.

She stopped at the open door and read a boldly-lettered note that had been taped to the door moulding.

_THE NEXT PERSON WHO ADDRESSES ME AS A "DEAR, SWEET OLD LADY" WILL HAVE SOMETHING THROWN AT THEM. I AM EITHER "MRS. JOHANNSEN" OR "MA'AM." _

She smiled and tapped on the door. "Mrs. Johannsen?"

A large, perky blonde-haired woman in paisley scrubs wiped her hands on a paper towel as she poked her head out. "Ooh! You have a visitor, Mrs. J!"

Yelina hesitated. "I'm Yelina Salas, her neighbor." She held up a blue suitcase. "I brought some things."

The tall woman stood back and motioned with a smile. "Come on in. Just finishing up in here. Now Mrs. J, I'll be back to take you to Physical Therapy in an hour."

Slowly Yelina stepped behind her and watched behind her in the mirror. Mrs. Johannsen was in her wheelchair, wearing her high-collared blue dress that covered her burn-scarred arms and legs. Rather than wearing the white gloves, she now just held her scarred hands. Her grayish-blonde hair was in its careful bun. She had been staring into the wall mirror, just studying herself for what seemed an eternity. Not sad or defeated. Just studying herself. Like there were some things she had yet to discover about herself.

The P.I., sensing that Mrs. Johannsen wasn't going to move, simply pulled up a chair and sat next to her. "I brought your clothes and some other things."

Slowly and deliberately she put her scarred hand to her neck. "Thank…you."

The two of them sat in silence. Mrs. Johannsen still never took her eyes off that mirror.

"What are you thinking?" Yelina asked, just trying to make some conversation.

The lady now looked down and scrawled on her pad.

_Cal came by this morning. I signed the order to have Steven, Joshua Michael and Lizzie exhumed._

Yelina just nodded quietly. There was nothing she could say, and both of them knew it.

_I never had a proper chance to say goodbye to them. I spent six months in the hospital. _

"Is that why you kept those mannequins of your family in your house and recreated that day?"

She nodded.

_I wanted them to enjoy their Thanksgiving_. She swallowed and gently wiped her eye. _I loved them more than life itself, and they were torn away from me_.

It was hard for Yelina to treat this like just another case. Mrs. Johannsen always had a way of making things so personal. "You yourself almost died trying to save them."

_I tried to save them. And I couldn't. I would much rather have died and let them live long, happy lives. To watch Steven make a run for the Presidency. To watch my babies grow up and go to college. Even though Steven had a busy schedule and traveled a lot, I made time. I read to my babies almost every night before they went to bed. I used to lie on the bed between them and read their favorite books. I would read _Amelia Bedelia, Where the Wild Things Are, Oscar the Grouch, Why Animals Don't Wear Clothes_._

"What any wife and mother would have wanted."

_With them gone I had nothing left. Ugly skin, ugly voice. I didn't care if everyone thought I was a lunatic. At least with the mannequins there I could still sit with them, talk to them, caress their hair, give them the best of everything. I could talk about politics with Steven. In my mind I can still hear their voices, even all these years later. _

The lady closed her eyes and bowed her head while a tear trickled down her scarred face.

Something about this woman's brokenness made Yelina want to cry herself.

"There's nothing ugly about you. I don't believe that. You shouldn't either." She handed the lady a Kleenex and watched while she dabbed her eyes.

_Cal tells me they want to do a psychiatric evaluation on me because of how I set up my home. Am I crazy to miss Steven and my babies?_

"I'm sure it's just standard procedure. Anybody who's been through what you've been through is lucky to be alive."

Mrs. Johannsen allowed herself to cry more freely now, holding nothing back. She leaned her face on her scarred hand and sobbed. "I…miss…them!" she rasped through her tears.

The P.I. could only sit closer and give her more Kleenex. Slowly she held out her hand. Through her tears, Mrs. Johannsen reached out and clutched her fingers. Those fingers were frail, rough and scarred, but Yelina could feel a warmth. A longing. A willingness to love. That warmth seemed to travel through her hand and through her whole body, making her smile.

There were no other sounds in the room except the woman's quiet sobbing.

Yelina furrowed her eyebrows and then looked down. "Mrs. Johannsen, I read something in the news that said you had died in the fire as well. Does anyone else in your hometown know you're still alive? That you live here in Miami?"

_Only a few people. People whom I trust. I suspect people put two and two together eventually. When I got out of the hospital, Cal's father became my trustee to help me untangle the estate. I was too sick to claim Steven's senate seat, so the Governor appointed a replacement. _

Those sad brown eyes glanced at Yelina for a moment.

_I tried to get involved with politics and civic affairs again. But I got tired easily and couldn't speak. Quite frankly, it just seems like nobody wants a damaged woman with ugly burn scars all over her. _

"Mrs. Johannsen" she finally said. "Do you remember what you told me? Fear and loneliness cause people to do things they wouldn't ordinarily. And so can self-pity."

* * *

The man had a breathtaking view of the Twin Cities from his office. The sun was streaming in now, but none of that mattered. He might as well have been working in a dungeon. After all, it was just hours before that motion to suppress had to be filed with the courthouse. He sat alone now, shutting out all the high-end trappings that went with his career. The cappuccino machine in the corner. The cold, beautiful blue morning. That huge, warm, comfortable office. After all, none of it really mattered as much as the deadline that was holding him, closing in on him, tightening around his neck worse than that tie. He scanned through emails one last time, just to be sure that nothing else had been added.

The local talk show streamed in through his computer speakers, more as background noise. He took a sip of his cappuccino and pounded his keyboard again.

"_You're listening to Twin Cities News Up To the Minute. Well, Folks! Talk about a surprise turn of events!"_

_"Yeah. Thanksgiving Day 1986. A very sad, tragic day. There are people in Minnesota that remember it like yesterday. That was the day a fire swept through the home of Senator-Elect Steven Johannsen just weeks before he was to go to Washington and take his Senate seat. He and their two children died in that fire. Horrible tragedy."_

The man jerked his head up. Adrenaline shot through his body. "Huh?"

_"For those of you who don't know the story, Steven Johannsen won the 1986 Senatorial race by a landslide, mostly with his America Works campaign."_

_"Right. And he always had his beautiful family with him. His wife Adelaide? Lizzie? Joshua Michael? Beautiful, beautiful family!"_

_"I remember. I had the good fortune to meet them during the campaign. Adelaide was just such a lady. She survived the fire, but she suffered burns over fifty percent of her body. Anybody who has seen her knew she was a fantastic speaker, just full of life and full of love. Well now new evidence has surfaced concerning that tragic fire, and a judge has ordered the case reopened. Dr. Michael Singletary with the Twin Cities Crime Lab is working in conjunction with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab in Florida."_

He locked eyes with the computer screen while his breathing deepened. "What the hell!"

"_Adelaide Johannsen went into seclusion after the tragedy. Well come to find out, she resides in Miami, Florida and has requested the case be reopened and further investigated. In 1987 the fire was ruled an accident, but Mrs. Johannsen insists that new evidence has turned up that suggests it may have started under suspicious circumstances."_

That do-or-die deadline had suddenly evaporated. In a fit of rage he kicked his chair. It tipped over with a clatter. He then hyperventilated as he stepped to that plate glass window and rested against it, his palms out. He could feel his knees weaken. There was nothing but the glass between him and the Minneapolis skyline.

He cursed under his breath. Then he dialed his cell phone.

"Yeah. It's Bill. Yeah, how am I doing? You kidding me? You hear the news? They reopened the Johannsen case! Well how the hell should I know?" He now paced across his office, breathing to dispel the adrenaline. "Look! I was under the impression it was taken care of! Probably some kid clerking and wanted to make brownie points. You're damn right!" He pointed at the plush carpeting of his office now. "Look! I don't care how you do it. Either this goes away once and for all or it's your ass!" With that he clicked off his cell phone.


	12. The Evidence Speaks

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: Contains minor spoilers for Blood Brothers and Hell Night**

* * *

**Chapter 12—The Evidence Speaks**

Eric and Ryan stood in the lab side by side at the lighted layout table, studying the photos.

"Okay. Twin Cities Crime Lab sent us these this morning" Delko said, motioning with his hand across the table. "These are the rest of the original photos from the fire, digitally enhanced." He then pointed to the next row. "Just got these about an hour ago. These are the excavation step by step. They're still sifting. Lot of stuff got lost when the structure got bulldozed, and neighbors said souvenir hunters came poking around."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah. And then you got the decomp and all the vegetation."

Delko held one photo up to the magnifier light. "So the fire started right here. The chimney was double-walled. Two layers of brick and then the insulation. While the rest of the living room had wood paneling, the wall with the fireplace had gypsum wallboard. "

Ryan's eyes fell on a small semicircle. "What's left of the mortar looks like somebody pounded something through it, like a nail. See this void here?"

Delko held out a printed sheet. "Twin Cities was thinking the same thing. They ran a trace on it. Haven't found anything in the property that matches it yet."

Ryan furrowed his eyebrows and then looked at Delko. "Tungsten. Same kind they use in light bulbs."

Delko nodded. "Yeah. Looked like a spike about half an inch in diameter. You figure the inside of that chimney got to about two thousand degrees. That tungsten probably heated up and lit up that wall. And since tungsten doesn't melt or warp easily…."

"Perfect for conducting that kind of heat right into the wall. But Twin Cities said this spike probably didn't reach the inside wall. In fact, because the chimney was double-walled, it didn't even reach far enough through the insulation." He picked up another photo. "But then we found this."

The charred wall had a faint pattern with a circle, a post, and then a rectangle. "Got a distinct pattern. Like…."

"A circle with something on top of it. Almost like a globe."

"Or a trophy."

"Problem is, how did it get that high up in the wall? And take a look at that. Sideways."

Ryan turned and faced Delko. "Hold your arms up."

"Why?"

"You're about six feet tall. I want to see how far up you can reach."

Delko stood against the glass wall and held his arm up. Ryan handed him the end of a tape measure. "Hold that. Your fingers reach seven feet eight inches. Just two inches shy."

Delko then patted the glass with his hand. "And even if I could reach that high, I couldn't hit that wall with enough force to make a mark like this. And I couldn't make that pattern in that angle."

"Guess we'll have to find out what did."

"Yep." Delko had his boyish grin again as he scanned the photos. "Wow. 1986. Were you out of diapers by then, Wolfe?"

The younger CSI smirked. "Yeah. Were you?"

* * *

The second those elevator doors parted, the memories flowed like a Florida canal. In her white sundress and heels, Yelina took a deep breath as she tapped up to reception desk, wondering whether anyone would recognize her. So many things happened here, she thought. Horatio stood here and watched her while she talked on the phone. The same day Rick Stetler first said hello.

As Horatio came around the corner, that same smile crossed his face. The rest of the world just seemed to dissolve when she wore that sleeveless white sundress. "Yelina. I was just leaving. You really didn't have to come all the way up here."

She smiled coyly and let her hair fall around her face. "I just thought I'd save you the trouble. Lot of memories here."

He nodded, never taking his eyes off her. "Good ones, I hope."

"Most of them have to do with you."

Horatio's blue eyes glanced up and down the hallway. No telling when Rick Stetler might come around to stir things up. "So it looks like you found some things we could use in the Johannsen case. Why don't we go someplace where we can talk more privately?"

Horatio closed the door and pulled up a chair next to his. Yelina sat just inches from him and spread out papers. He watched those beautiful hands move.

"Okay. In the 1986 Minnesota senatorial race, Steven Johannsen worked ran against Wallace Grier, the incumbent. Steven took seventy-two percent of the vote."

"So where might we find Senator Grier?"

"Died of a heart attack in 2002. He was indicted for using money from his campaign fund to pay for his girlfriend's apartment in Washington. Steven Johannsen ran against him on family values and his 'America Works' campaign. He promised to cut taxes and ease regulations to create more jobs."

"Cal Barber said he was young, fresh and popular with average Minnesotans, so the party nominated him. Somebody like that is bound to have some enemies going into Washington."

Yelina flipped more pages. "He did have a lot of enemies. His 'America Works' campaign upset a lot of the local labor unions who backed his opponent. I've been tracking down some contacts and talking to Twin Cities Crime Lab."

"Anybody we should be concerned about?"

"Him." She laid a photo on the table. Staring back at them was a heavy man with baby-fine brown hair and rough skin. Though the man smiled in his picture, one couldn't help but feel as though he were hiding something.

"His name is Bill Whitesides. His colleagues call him 'The Shark.' When he smells blood he attacks. He's currently a managing partner with Meyer and Whitesides, a corporate litigation firm in Minneapolis. Local police are questioning him. He has a reputation for finding dirt on his opponents."

"Sort of like Chuck Colson, Richard Nixon's 'Hatchet Man'?"

"Exactly. Both Cal's father and Bill Whitesides worked on the campaign. Mr. Whitesides was sure he'd get a senior staffing position in Washington, but Mr. Barber got the job instead. Everybody knew Bill Whitesides' reputation for finding information and using it against his opponents. It looks like this Bill Whitesides is addicted to power. Steven Johannsen was afraid somehow Bill might turn on him."

"Anybody else?"

"Still waiting for the Minnesota PD to call. And I have more information at home."

Horatio glanced at his watch and then looked into those beautiful brown eyes. "I'm thinking maybe we can talk about this more at your place. Isn't it my night to take Ray Jr. out for burgers?"

Yelina gave him a knowing smile as she gathered the papers back into their folders. "Actually that was last week, but I don't think he'd mind going again."

IAB agent Rick Stetler paced the hall, on the lookout for Horatio-again. He rounded the corner and stiffened up when he came almost nose to nose with the Lieutenant.

Horatio stopped suddenly and gathered himself. "Rick."

Rick gave him the usual scowl. "Got Twin Cities PD and the Feds crawling up my keester, Horatio. You're making a lot of higher-ups nervous with the Johannsen—

Rick lost his train of thought when she came around the corner. "Yelina?"

Adrenaline shot through through her as she found herself just inches from him. "Stetler."

"Rick, Miss Salas and I were actually going to work on the case at her house. I'll call you if we find out anything important."

The IAB agent tightened his lips. "Right."

As the elevator doors parted, Horatio was sure to hold Yelina's hand. He couldn't forget that night when Rick took possession of Yelina and Ray Jr, walking them into the elevator, while he could do nothing more than to watch from a distance. Now he would turn the tables.

"Actually, Yelina, I was thinking just order in some nice dinner at your place" he said very loudly.

Just before the doors closed, he leaned forward, pulling her body close to his and gave her a long, slow kiss where he knew Rick could see.

Yelina giggled into his lips. As the elevator sank, she found herself wrapping her arms around him as well, her fingers in his soft red hair as she savored his kiss. Finally he let her go and looked into her eyes.

"You did that on purpose" she said gleefully.

He glanced upward with a satisfied smile. "I did."

"Well, let's go home. There's more where that came from."

"I counted on that."


	13. Virtopsy

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**Chapter 13—Virtopsy**

Alexx Woods sat at her desk in the morgue, her laptop at the ready. She had cleared space for this one appointment.

Finally the screen clicked on. "Good morning, Dr. Singletary."

"Dr. Alexx Woods. I've heard good things about you. Thanks for agreeing to this video conference. After we exhumed the bodies of the Johannsen family, I made virtopsies of all of the three victims, Steven, Joshua Michael, and Elizabeth. Since they were embalmed in 1986 and technology was different, you're aware that evidence will be limited."

"Of course."

"Even with the embalming process, there has been some decomp on all three. With the virtopsy technology, I did, however, find some things that were very interesting. I'll show you each body in the order that I found the most evidence. Click on the right hand side of your screen."

A green hologram appeared in front of her as she clicked the button.

"This is the scanned virtopsy of Joshua Michael, age ten. Now as you know, he was found in his bedroom closet. The preliminary report said that he died of smoke inhalation. From what I could find on his lung tissue, that appears to be true. But I did notice something on his right upper arm. Take a look at the biceps brachii and the surrounding tissue."

Alexx nodded. "Compacted scarring. And the tendons of the supraspinatus look like they've been pulled directly upward."

"Right. In the shape of a hand. This suggests somebody had grabbed him and yanked him upward pretty hard. It had to be someone who was either mad or, in this case, in a panic. I'm amending the report with this."

"Dr. Singletary, can we get a handprint off that bruising?"

"Our lab has already done that. Click on the next icon on your screen."

Alexx clicked on the icon. Another green hologram lit up the air, this time of a handprint.

"Here's the handprint our M.E. was able to lift from Joshua Michael's arm. Of course no fingerprints, but this was clearly premortem. Must have shown up after the boy was prepped for the funeral."

"Hmm. Had to be a large male."

"Not Steven Johannsen. Though Steven was about six foot three, his hand span wasn't that large. He had long, slender hands. This hand span was about five inches."

"Right. And besides, the M.E. who did the initial autopsies concluded that Steven and Elizabeth had both died before Joshua Michael."

"Dr. Singletary, why don't we take a look at Steven and Elizabeth?"

"Sure. Not as much to go on with them."

Alexx watched as the next hologram appeared in front of her.

"This is Steven Johannsen. The preliminary report shows that he died from breathing the superheated air. The scarring on the lung tissue confirms that. He was dead before the flames touched him. They found the body near the back of the living room, opposite from the chimney. But take a look at the back of his skull."

The M.E. walked up to the green image and tilted her head. "Subarachnoid hematoma. A small one at that."

"So small that apparently nobody noticed it the first time. Fresh blunt-forced trauma. Happened just minutes before he died. Small enough to get past the preliminary, but enough to cause him to be incapacitated. His brain bled out perimortem."

"And a similar handprint on his distal left arm. But if you click on your icon, you'll notice that this hand is of a different width."

Alexx clicked on the icon and studied the handprint that rotated in front of her. "Definitely too big to be Adelaide Johannsen, and not the same size as the one on Joshua Michael."

Dr. Singletary nodded to Alexx from the video screen. "Two other people were in that fire."

"I just wondered how, even back then, all this got missed."

"The bodies were prepared for the funeral as quickly as possible. Also, it says in the report that the fire investigation was ordered stopped."

"Does it say why?"

The bespectacled doctor shook his head. "Nobody could give me a good answer on that. We're looking into all that as we speak. Now Dr. Woods, I should let you know that the local news media is working to get the news out to see whether anyone remembers anything. Would you like me to call Lieutenant Caine about our findings?"

"That's okay, Dr. Singletary. I'll let him know. Thank you."

* * *

Horatio held Yelina's hand as they walked down the shiny halls of the rehabilitation center.

"So we're looking for the library. Ah, here it is."

Mrs. Johannsen sat at her wheelchair and typed gingerly at the computer. She was dressed neatly in her hat and long sleeves, just as always. She seemed fascinated by the different screens that popped up.

"Mrs. Johannsen" Horatio said, still holding Yelina's hand. "So it's true what Yelina said. You've discovered the Internet."

At the sound of his comforting voice, the lady looked up and turned her wheelchair toward them. She then motioned to the monitor.

Yelina studied the screen. "I see you've been following the news."

She nodded confidently as she took out her pad and pen.

_I can see it in your eyes. The two of you have become closer. _

Yelina looked down and smiled.

_At first I could see that the two of you avoided one another, though you were clearly in love. Please don't be like me. I hid for 23 years. I allowed myself to be lonely. I now know in my heart that I wouldn't let go of something that was clearly gone. Please don't hide from one another. You deserve each other. _

Before either one of them could answer, Mrs. Johannsen slowly turned and clicked on the task bar on the monitor. Another screen came to life.

Horatio nodded. "That's right. The Minnesota Delegation will be in town."

_Do you think they've forgotten about me?_

Horatio's blue eyes glanced from the screen to her hopeful brown eyes. "No, Mrs. Johannsen. I'm willing to bet they not only remember you, but they still love you just as much as when Steven won the election."

_I wonder whether I could visit with them. Whether they would even remember me. _

Horatio now pulled a chair closer to her. "Mrs. Johannsen, would you like me to speak with Cal? Maybe he can arrange something."

Deliberately she put her finger to her throat. "Yes. Thank…you."

He smiled. "You're welcome."

She put her hand to her throat again. "I…can…talk…in…complete…sentences…now."

"Congratulations" Yelina said.

Horatio was about to say something when his cell phone chirped. He looked at the caller ID and recognized it as the Twin Cities Crime Lab. "Caine." He put one finger up and stepped out into the hallway.

Both Yelina and Mrs. Johannsen watched as the Lieutenant stood outside the doorway, his head down.

"So, it looks like you're really making a new life" Yelina observed. "Speech therapy, physical therapy, and now the Internet. Congratulations."

The lady put her hand to her throat again. "I…had…a…beautiful…voice" she said in her strained whisper.

Yelina looked at her sympathetically. "You still do."

She took a sip from the water that she kept next to her wheelchair and put her hand on her throat again. "I…used…to…read…to…the…school…children."

"I know. Would you believe I read some of those books to Ray Jr. when he was little?"

"We…are…not…that…different…Yelina."

Horatio suddenly came in, glancing urgently at his phone and then at the ladies. Yelina and Mrs. Johannsen knew something had happened.

"What is it?" Yelina wanted to know.

"That was Dr. Singletary at the Twin Cities Crime Lab. The media put out that the Johannsen case was reopened."

"Right."

He nodded with some confidence. "He got a call from the cold case unit half an hour ago. Somebody wants to confess."


	14. The Weakest Link

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**Chapter 14—The Weakest Link**

Horatio sat in front of the video screen. Yelina sat down next to him with a microcassette recorder.

"Dr. Singletary, this is Yelina Salas. She's a private investigator hired by Mrs. Johannsen."

The man nodded. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Salas."

"Pleasure."

"Talk to me."

Dr. Singletary breathed deeply and gathered his thoughts. "We have a man in custody here at the Twin Cities facility. He turned himself in at the International Falls Checkpoint. Name is Jean Boudin. He's a Canadian citizen. Lives near Winnepeg."

"Why the U.S. Border?"

"If he had gone to the Canadian authorities, he would have had to go through the extradition process." He softened his look a little. "I get the feeling he's serious about this."

"What is his relationship with the Johannsen case?"

"Click on the icon on your screen. That's his booking photo."

Horatio clicked on the icon while Yelina looked on.

"Mr. Boudin was twenty years old and on an American work visa when he worked for Northstar Chimney and Stove Services in 1986."

"That company was bought out in 1992" Yelina noted.

"Right. Well, he was able to give us details about the case that weren't made public, so it sounds like he's the real deal."

Yelina leaned forward and studied the photo. "He has burn scars on his neck, much like Mrs. Johannsen."

"Right" Dr. Singletary said. "He claims that he was approached by Bill Whitesides to do something to the chimney."

"Dr. Singletary, while that tungsten spike might have weakened the mortar, it couldn't have possibly started the fire. Right now we're working to find out what might have caused that indentation in the wall, but it wasn't the spike."

"Mr. Boudin said that when he climbed into the chimney and drove the tungsten spike into the mortar, he just couldn't go through with it. He says Mr. Whitesides paid him and told him that if the police said anything, he had connections in the local city government and would make it go away. Mr. Boudin claims that he hammered the spike just a little bit into the mortar, but not all the way through the wall. Said he knew Mr. Whitesides was powerful, and if he didn't do it, he might lose his job or worse."

"Was Mr. Boudin one of the other two people who was in the house during that fire?" Horatio wanted to know.

"He said he was. He actually parked down the block a few times. His friend owned the blue Chevy Monza that neighbors saw parked on the street. He testified that on Thanksgiving Day he saw the smoke and ran in to try to warn the Johannsens. When the fire got too intense, he just ran out of there."

"Is that how he got the burns?"

"So he says. He said that he had his friend drive him back across the border to Canada because he knew if he tried to go to the hospital here in Minnesota it would raise suspicions. So he got treatment at a Canadian hospital, saying it was a barbecuing accident."

Yelina nodded thoughtfully. "Why now?"

"He hadn't said, but my guess was he thought since the investigation was ruled an accident, he figured he could just disappear. Just go on living life and forget it ever happened. I've seen cases like this, and I'm sure you have too, where they just can't really live with the guilt. When he found out the case had been reopened, he just wanted to do the right thing."

Horatio nodded. "And what of Mr. Whitesides?"

"Bringing him in for questioning now."

* * *

The Florida sun was beginning to heat up the parking lot. Ryan and Delko stood back and looked at their wall model, knowing they'd better get this demonstration done. The sooner they could get back into that air-conditioned lab the better.

"Care to do the honors?" Ryan asked as he donned his safety glasses.

Delko grinned as he slipped his goggles over his sweaty forehead. "Yeah, why not? Okay. So the only way something could have made a mark like that in the wall is if someone threw something. Hard.

Ryan handed Delko a small gold baseball trophy. "Now according to the blueprints, the farthest distance from the chimney in the Johannsen house was eighteen feet. This is the same kind of baseball trophy Twin Cities found in the excavation. Probably belonged to the son. It's the only thing they've found that's the exact same shape and length of that indentation in the wall." He motioned to the gray wallboard in front of them. "So here's a replica of the wall. Got a heating element right behind it, the same way Twin Cities says it was. According to the Cone Calorimeter Test that, with the wallboard being exposed to that much heat for at least a month, it should have been weakened in that one spot. The heat would have dried it out, and there would have been a high concentration of anhydrous ammonium sulfate on the interior wall" Ryan said. He pointed to a yellow line on the pavement. "That line measures exactly eighteen feet from the wall. The black X on the wallboard is exactly where the mark was." He grinned now. "Okay, A-Rod. Let's see you hit it."

Delko gave him that boyish grin as he stood behind the yellow line. "No problem."

"Wallboard's been heat-treated, so it's about as weak as the fire department thinks it was. So when someone threw this trophy, it should have pushed the wall in the rest of the way and hit the tungsten and finished the job."

"We'll find out."

"See how long it takes for the thing to ignite, if the Johannsens really had time to get out of that house."

With a determination, Delko clenched the trophy and assumed a pitching stance. "Ready?"

Ryan stood back with his stop watch. "Hit it!"

With all his strength, Delko hurled the makeshift trophy against the wallboard, hitting just below the black X. It landed with a THUMP! For a moment it stuck and then fell to the hot pavement.

"Almost perfect" Ryan said.

Within seconds, flames began to swallow the wallboard. Delko lunged forward with the fire extinguisher and doused the fire, standing back as gray smoke plumed into the air.

"How much time was that?"

Ryan glanced at the stopwatch again. "Six seconds. Total consumption in twenty seconds."

"This kind of wallboard is usually fire rated for thirty seconds."

Ryan nodded. "They never had a chance."

"So that trophy was thrown. Question is, who finished the job?"

"Yeah. And why?"

* * *

_"This is your Twin Cities News Up To the Minute with a breaking news bulletin. This afternoon, Saint Paul Police received an unexpected break in the Johannsen case."_

The woman who had been sipping her white chocolate latte and taking in the warmth of the fireplace, now glanced up at the coffee shop's TV.

_"This afternoon a Canadian man turned himself in to border authorities in International Falls, claiming he had played a part in the 1986 house fire that killed Steven Johannsen and their two children in 1986. Adelaide Johannsen was severely wounded in that fire but now lives in Florida. She had since ordered the case reopened."_

Nobody else in the coffee shop seemed to notice, but she quickly folded up her newspaper and stood up, trying not to draw attention to herself.

_"In addition, Minneapolis police have now arrested attorney William Whitesides, known as 'The Shark'. Mr. Whitesides served on Steven Johannsen's campaign staff in 1985 and 1986. He's currently being brought into for questioning."_

_"Jean Boudin, a forty-three-year-old Winnepeg business owner, is now in custody at the Saint Paul Jail. He is being held without bond pending charges of conspiracy, attempted arson, and three counts of murder."_

_The woman took a deep breath._

In an almost hypnotic stare, the woman watched Bill Whitesides step out of a police vehicle and wave away a sea of cameras and reporters. Fearing someone might have noticed her, she slipped on her leather coat and hurried out the door. In the privacy of her car she pulled out her cell phone and thumbed the speed dial.

"Hey, Dad. It's Patti. I just heard. Now what?" Absentmindedly she stared at the hills of plowed snow and the headlights in the parking lot. She listened and then nodded. "I don't know. Lemme think. She's in Florida? I'll get back to you. Yeah, I know. I love you, Dad. Talk to you soon. Bye."

As she darted outside, she watched her breath in the coldness. She then thumbed numbers on her cell phone again.

"Yeah hey, it's Patti Chastain. I just got a call from my father. I have a family emergency I have to take care of. I'll be out of the office for a few days. Anything happens, I'll be checking my messages. I should be back in a few days. Strictly confidential." With that she clicked off her cell phone.


	15. Family Affair

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: A special thanks to Harmysings, Merrymatrioshka, DerekMorgansGirlForvr, Moochiecat, Emmillyxx50, and anyone else I have forgotten. I truly appreciate your reviews.  
Contains minor spoilers for Blood Brothers and Rio.**

* * *

**Chapter 15—Family Affair**

Yelina sat closely to Horatio as he clicked on the icon, but not too closely, as they both knew that Dr. Singletary could see them. The video feed came to life.

"Dr. Singletary. Horatio Caine and Yelina Salas in Miami. You there?"

"We're both here" Horatio said.

"I guess you heard."

"We heard about Bill Whitesides being taken into custody."

"Based on his testimony and the evidence we gathered, the State Attorney's Office is charging Jean Boudin with four charges of attempted murder and conspiracy. Also, four charges of attempted first degree murder against Bill Whitesides for hiring him to fix the chimney. But Mr. Boudin will most likely get a deal for turning state's evidence. Some unquiet spirits were laid to rest today."

"They were" Horatio said. "Dr. Singletary, where exactly does Mr. Whitesides fit into all this?"

"Apparently, when Mrs. Johannsen was at the grocery store, Bill Whitesides came by to chat with the family. When he found out that the senator-elect had given the staffing job to Fred Barber instead of him, he got pretty steamed. They started arguing. Bill threw Joshua's baseball trophy at Steven and hit the wall. By some twist of fate it was that exact spot where Mr. Boudin had hammered the spike. As your lab demonstrated, the wall had weakened enough that when he threw the trophy into the wall, he finished the job to where the tungsten spike could set the fire. We've recovered a baseball trophy that was in the approximate area of the point of origin. No proof that it was the trophy Bill Whitesides threw."

"The soil took away any traces of DNA or carbon" Horatio noted.

"Now what about Mr. Boudin? He said he tried to help the senator out of the burning house" Yelina wanted to know.

"Mr. Boudin claimed that when he tried to help Steven, he was frantic. Steven grabbed him by the leg and wouldn't let go. That fire got really hot really fast. Mr. Boudin said he picked up the nearest thing he could reach and hit Steven in the head just to make him let go so he could get out of there and save himself."

"What about Joshua Michael?"

"Bill Whitesides got separated from Steven in the fire. He said he tried to help Joshua by picking him up from the floor, but the boy panicked. Ran for the one place he thought he'd be safe, and that was his bedroom closet. Bill said he just ran out of there after that. He won't say a word beyond that. Looks like neither one knew the other was in there, and the way that fire spread, I find the stories credible." Sounds like an open-and-shut cold case, but it isn't. There were a lot of hands in the pot. Some people in high places aren't talking. And that's where I'm going to need Mrs. Salas's help."

"What can I do?" Yelina asked, leaning forward.

"I'm gonna need you to do some digging. Jean Boudin claims that Bill Whitesides paid him to spike the chimney, which Mr. Whitesides is denying. We're gonna need anything you can track down, Miss Salas—bank records, receipts, anything. Also, we need to know who ordered this investigation stopped and why. Nobody seems to know. Can you do it?"

"I sure can."

* * *

The light of the monitor reflected back into her eyes as she clicked keys and brought up internet screens one by one. Horatio came out with two glasses and set one down next to her. She smiled and picked it up. "Well, thank you."

The redheaded lieutenant sat in a chair just inches from her. "I just thought you might be getting thirsty."

Yelina shook her chocolate curls back as she leaned back in the chair. "I wonder how Mrs. Johannsen's going to feel, now that the truth came out." She paused and looked down at Horatio's hand which was grasping her fingers. "It was only a few years that I thought Raymond had died. But to live without knowing the truth, and then when I wasn't sure that Raymond might still be alive, it drove me crazy."

He nodded sadly at the memory. "Me too."

She looked down now. "Did a Lexis Nexis search. Bill Whitesides withdrew ten thousand dollars from one of his bank accounts two weeks before Northstar Chimney Services worked on the Johannsens' chimney."

"Any checks? Deposits into Jean Boudin's bank records?"

"Canadian consulate is getting me that information now. All his bank accounts were in Winnipeg."

Horatio then furrowed his eyebrows. "Yelina, there's something I don't understand. Why exactly did Mr. Whitesides pay to have Mr. Boudin spike the chimney? It couldn't possibly be because he was mad about not getting the staffing job. After all, Northstar worked on the chimney in October, well before the election. How could he have known that Steven was going to win?"

Yelina paused. "When Dr. Singletary said there was a lot of covering in the Johannsen fire, I don't think he knew how right he was." She flipped through some printouts in a folder and handed them to Horatio. "Take a look at his acquaintances."

Horatio thumbed through the pages. "So Bill Whitesides didn't tell Steven Johannsen that he was working for Wallace Grier, the man who lost to him, did he?"

Yelina shook her head. "Not only that, but Mr. Whitesides was getting money from the local unions. Steven Johannsen had a program he wanted to introduce into Washington called 'America Works.' The local labor unions fought against it."

"So maybe this had nothing to do with the election after all." Horatio handed the pages back to her.

Yelina put the folder down and looked at Horatio sadly.

"What is it, Yelina?"

"You know, Mrs. Johannsen seems like such a sweet woman. I tracked the Johannsens as much as I could. Nothing. Not even a parking ticket. I guess in politics you can never be sure who your real friends are, can you?"

He had been grasping her fingers. Now she gently clasped her hand over his and leaned on his shoulder while looking up at him.

"Something's been bothering me all these years, Horatio."

"What's that?"

"I remember that night in the restaurant when you said that if Raymond and I hadn't met? You and I?"

He nodded with those sad, thoughtful blue eyes. He had never forgotten.

She sank her voice to a whisper. "How about now?"

He tenderly put his hand to her face under those chocolate curls. "I look forward to starting over again."

"Me too."

He eased her face to his and met his lips to hers again, again, and again, more firmly each time, then finally deepening his kiss, wrapping his arms around her. There were no other sounds in the house.

Yelina found herself beginning to cry. Horatio looked at her.

"What is it?"

Her eyes glistening with tears, she held his face, her thumb caressing his cheekbone softly. "You don't know how long I waited for this" she whispered. "All those nights I laid awake by myself I dreamed about you." She sniffed. "All those nights in Brazil when Raymond was gone I dreamed about you."

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, brushing her tears away. She held him close to her as he now kissed her jaw and her neck. "Well you never have to wait again, Yelina. I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

She shivered as she held him, his lips against her neck through her curls, his breathing deepening. As she closed her eyes, she remembered those words.

_God, please, if you're real, if Horatio and I fall in love, I promise that I'll never ask for anything else again._

* * *

A tear trickled out of the woman's eye as she looked out the window at the lights of Nashville. She couldn't believe this was happening. It was like a bad dream. The TV in the background was little more than noise as she contemplated her family's house of cards crashing down.

The woman stiffened up when her cell phone rang. With trembling hands she dug through her purse, letting everything else spill out onto the bed, and clicked the button. "Dad?" She let her head and arms dangle over the side of the bed as she listened to her father's voice. She had never heard him like this.

"Dad? What the hell have you gotten yourself into? Dammit! Look, you better not call me from the home phone. No telling who might be listening. Look, Dad? I'm gonna make it right. I swear." She sniffed again. "Dad? No. Dad? I'm out of town right now. I swear, I'm gonna fix this." A fresh wave of tears came over her as she wiped her eyes. "She's not gonna be a problem to us ever again. I love you Dad. I mean it. Stay strong." She could barely see through her tears as she hung up the phone and laid it on the bed.

With a new resolve she walked over to her laptop and clicked keys.

Adelaide Johannsen was confined to a wheelchair at the Miami Gardens Nursing Home and Rehabilitation Center.

The woman then brought up Mapquest and found Miami Gardens. Interstate 75 would take her right there. Probably another two days' drive, she figured.

_I'll make it right. She's not gonna be a problem to us ever again. _


	16. It Will Always Find You

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: Special thanks to my dear husband, who is also my legal consultant. **

* * *

**Chapter 16—It Will Always Find You**

"Thanks for having me over" Cal Barber said as he sat behind Horatio and Yelina. He glanced across the street at the quiet blue house. "And thanks for helping me clean out the house. Looks like most of it's going into storage. "

Yelina had been watching the computer monitor, but now she dipped her head and smiled. "You're welcome. After all, you and Mrs. Johannsen did a lot for us."

"Addie's gonna be thrilled when I tell her they want her to appear at the convention. I'll probably go tell her this afternoon."

Yelina couldn't help but notice that the young attorney had a new light in his eyes. "Looks like she's not the only one who'll be thrilled."

"Well, what can I say? Kind of like old times. The national conventions are more than just about campaigning and getting behind candidates. They're a family reunion of sorts. In fact, I was asked to deliver a keynote speech about the Johannsen case." He breathed deeply. "Horatio? Yelina? Would you like to come with us? It'll be in the daytime, so Addie won't have to be out for too long or too late. I could really use your help, and I think Addie would love to have you there."

"I'll see what I can do" Horatio agreed. The idea of being around all those politicians made him uncomfortable.

"I'd love to be there with you" Yelina said with a smile.

"Fantastic. I'll see if my father can pull some strings to get you VIP passes. It's the least I could do. And I'd sort of like to do it for the family."

"You still miss them, don't you?" Horatio asked.

"Yeah. You figure, it was a small town. This made headlines all over Minnesota. That little town was crawling with reporters for weeks. That's a lot for a small town where everybody knew everybody."

Horatio furrowed his eyebrows. "Mr. Barber, you say that everybody knew everybody."

He looked up. "That's right."

"Did Bill Whitesides ever talk to your father about the staffing job after the fire?" Horatio wanted to know.

"I asked him about it. And no, he didn't. My father said there was a lot of suspicions and a lot of fingerpointing."

"What kind of suspicions?"

He nodded at the monitor. "Well, everybody knew what a bully Bill Whitesides could be. But strangely he just seemed to just sort of disappear after the fire." He reached over and pulled a folder from a stack near the computer and handed it to Horatio. "I got this out of Addie's house. Funny she saved this all these years. You know, you look in that house, and she didn't want to ever live past November 1986, but…."

"But what?" Horatio asked.

Cal raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "I found this under the mattress in Lizzie's bedroom. Strange place for information like this. Sometimes I wonder whether all these years she sort of thought the way we did. You know, that this whole thing was no accident."

The lieutenant thumbed through the folder. "Mr. Barber, who is Edward Chastain?"

"He wasn't exactly the mayor. The town didn't have a full-time mayor back then. He was the Chief of City Council. If anybody had the power to halt that investigation, he would have."

He held an old, crinkled letter up to Yelina. She tipped her head to read it. "Looks like he was pretty upset at them. This is an official Cease and Desist letter addressed to Steven concerning Minnetonka Savings and Loan."

"Yeah. The Savings and Loan Scandal back in the Eighties? Minnetonka was on the list of S and L's that had to be propped up by the Federal Government. Mr. Chastain held a seat on the board of directors while Minnetonka got bailout money. His oldest daughter Patricia had an internship with them. Steven accused Ed Chastain of money laundering and conflict of interest."

"Didn't seem to help them very much" Yelina said. "Minnetonka still got bought out. Not much more information here."

"Which means if the Councilman was a shareholder in Minnetonka Savings, he got paid something."

Cal Barber nodded. "Possible. I looked it up a couple of times. Never found anything on Nexis. Although…."

Horatio watched the young attorney. "Although what, Mr. Barber?"

He tipped his head up. "I'm thinking." He then pointed. "Wait a minute! Dammit! I wonder…."

Horatio watched him.

He reached forward and grabbed the folder back. Wetting his finger, he thumbed through it page by page. He then handed another typed piece of paper to Horatio. "Take a look at this. It's a letter from Harvard Business School to his daughter Patricia."

_"Dear Miss Chastain. It has come to our attention that you are the subject of a federal investigation of ethics violations in the Minnetonka Savings and Loan scandal. In view of this investigation, we regret to inform you that we cannot accept your scholarship and are hereby rescinding your admission to Harvard Business School."_

"Those charges were her scarlet letter. She ended up going to the local community college. Nobody else would take her."

"So it was basically because of Steven Johannsen's accusations that Patricia Chastain didn't get into Harvard Business School" Horatio mused. "I would call that motive. Yelina, see if you can find anything on Patricia or Ed Chastain."

Yelina clicked the keyboard again. "Patricia Chastain. Let's see if she's done anything recently."

* * *

"Can I help you?"

The woman glanced up from the work table and smiled briefly. "Oh, I'll be there in just a minute. Thank you."

With deliberate hands she fixed her photo to the paper, taping it down before placing it into the laminator. As the new badge had cooled off, she held it up to the light. This would do.

The clerk glanced at the well-dressed woman. "Anything else for you, Ma'am?"

She shook her head and smiled. "No, that'll be all. How much do I owe you?"

The young clerk tapped the cash register. "Seven ninety-five total."

With a deliberate smile she reached into her purse and handed him a ten. "Thank you very much.

* * *

Horatio, Yelina, and Cal Barber all watched with a new interest as information popped up. "Patricia Chastain, Oakley, Minnesota. Ethics violations, money laundering and conspiracy charges were all dropped. No further information."

"She currently works for Blaine and Associates" Cal advised.

"Not likely I'll find anything on old bank records for the Chastains, but I'll try." Yelina clicked keys again.

Something caught her attention. "I am getting her cell phone records, though. It says here she made a phone call to Blaine and Associates that evening. Then she made another phone call."

"Who did she call after Blaine?"

"Her father, Edward Chastain."

"I do have her recent bank records. Horatio?"

Both gentlemen were transfixed on the monitor. "Says she used her credit card at the Embassy Suites in Chicago. And then the next day she used the same card at Sheraton Four Points in Nashville."

Cal Barber felt a chill. "You don't think…."

With an urgency Horatio opened his cell phone and hit the speed dial. "Dave? It's Horatio. I need you to find a GPS locator on a cell phone number." He then read him the number. "Uh huh. So traveling south on I-95, just south of Fort Pierce? That's about two hours from here."

Both Yelina and Cal Barber watched him.

"Thank you, Dave." He snapped his phone shut. "Patti Chastain's cell phone GPS is just south of Fort Pierce and heading in this direction!"

* * *

From the outside, the Miami Gardens Nursing Home and Rehabilitation Center looked like any other—a large, luxurious beige building with bright windows and palm trees. Several elderly men and women sat out front in rocking chairs and wheelchairs, either chatting, snoozing, or otherwise just taking in the warm Florida afternoon. She smiled and nodded to them as she tapped into the main entrance.

The young receptionist looked up from her computer, disinterested at first, but then changed her attitude when she saw the neat, well-dressed blonde woman. "Yes, hi. Can I help you? Ms. Kell?"

The woman smiled. "Hi, Maureen Kell from Miami-Dade Social Services. Welfare check on Adelaide Johannsen."

She nodded. "Okay. Just need you to sign in. Mrs. Johannsen's in 105. She should be there."

The woman scrawled her signature in the log and laid the pen down. "Fine. I'll just go in and talk to her." She smiled. "Thank you very much."


	17. Rage Against the Machine

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**Chapter 17—Rage Against the Machine**

The Miami skies that had been sunny just a while ago were now darkening up, and thunder could be heard in the distance. Cal Barber could barely hear the thunder. He was not far behind the screaming MDPD patrol cars that barreled up Interstate 95, weaving through Miami's daytime traffic. The blue steering wheel had slipped out of his sweaty grip again as he fumbled for his cell phone. Horatio had told him to wait. But he couldn't.

"Come on! Come on! Move it!"

Nobody seemed to notice the woman as she tapped down the long hallway, stepping around medicine carts, wheelchairs or walkers. Above all she made sure that badge was visible.

The door to Room 105 was open. Trying not to look too out of place, she stepped slowly into the dark, peaceful room. Around a tray table. Around a wheelchair. Along the bedrail. The room became darker as the lightning flickered and the thunder rumbled outside the window.

There she was. After all these years. Sound asleep, as though nothing were wrong.

The thunder was getting louder and closer now. As she set down her briefcase, her heart quaked and her hands shook with rage as the old images went through her head. Kicked out of Harvard. Fired. The humiliation of it all.

Cal Barber's thumb slipped as he tried to glance down and hit redial. "Come on, Horatio! You gotta know something! Pick up, will you?"

His voice mail. Dammit! He glanced up as lightning shot across the sky.

Quickly he dialed Yelina's number. Voice mail. In frustration he snapped his phone shut.

Satisfied that no one would be interrupting, she closed the heavy room door and wedged a chair under the metal knob.

The thunder and lightning seemed to get closer by the second. Mrs. Johannsen still lay sleeping.

As she stood just inches from the woman's shoulder, Patti Chastain seemed to go into another dimension. Adelaide Johansen was little more than a darkened, sleeping image interrupted by a thunderstorm.

Cal Barber fumbled to turn on his wipers as the rain started to pound on his windshield, harder and harder. With his free hand he pressed his speed dial again. Horatio's voice mail. He clicked it off again. "I don't like this" he muttered, shaking his head.

The rain began to hammer the window. As the lightning flashed again, Mrs. Johannsen opened her eyes. For a moment the two women locked eyes. In seconds, Mrs. Johannsen recognized her, and fear filled her face.

"Patricia—"

Before Mrs. Johannsen could push back and find her call button, the woman reached over and picked up a pillow. Almost robotically she held it squarely over her enemy's face, leaning harder and harder each second.

Shock had turned to panic to terror. Mrs. Johannsen struggled as violently as her frailness would allow, clawing the woman's wrists, trying desperately to pry them off, but she was no match. Patti Chastain continued to lean her weight on the pillow, harder and harder, while Mrs. Johannsen shifted and squirmed more wildly now, as much as her body would let her.

"You did this!" Patti muttered softly.

Mrs. Johannsen tried to turn her head side to side, but the woman's weight was just too much. Barely she could be hurt grunting, arms flailing.

Tears streamed down Patti's face. "You did this to me! You bitch!" Sweat began to soak her blonde hair as she pushed harder.

So caught up was Patti in her rage that she couldn't hear anything else. Not sheets of rain and crashing thunder. Not the banging and pushing on the front door. Not the frantic yells.

"You did this! Now I'm gonna kill you! Hear me? You're gonna die right here, right now!"

Mrs. Johannsen couldn't fight anymore. She began to loosen her grip on Patti's wrists when—

Patti's vision whirled around as she felt herself fly up against the wall. She shrieked as something held her neck. She tried to squirm away, but whoever had grabbed her was pinning her against the wall now.

"Let go of me!" she wailed as she tried to pry herself loose.

Yelina held the woman by the neck and pinned her to the wall. "We were waiting for you. You should've looked in the bathroom."

Horatio yanked the chair from the door then snapped cuffs on her. "Patricia Chastain, you're under arrest. Attempted murder, conspiracy and aggravated assault!" he snarled. Yelina released her neck as the woman had now cooled off. "Yeah? Prove it."

Just inches from her face Yelina held up a microcassette recorder and clicked it on.

_"You did this! Now I'm gonna kill you! Hear me? You're gonna die right here, right now!"_

"Take her out of here!" Horatio ordered. A female officer steered the snarling, crying woman away. "Let's go!"

Yelina wasted no time in yanking the pillow off Mrs. Johannsen's frightened face.

Her eyes were closed, and her nose bled. There was an unnatural silence as police and nurses looked on.

Tears filled up her eyes. She breathed deeply and started to cry. Yelina found herself holding her hand and smoothing the woman's rumpled hair. "You're gonna be okay" she whispered. "She's gone."

"Scuse us!" a nurse shouted, nudging the P.I. out of the way. Yelina let go of the frail hand and let the staff hover around, doing their work.

"What the hell happened?"

"Somebody put something in front of the door."

"Who was she?"

"Half the MDPD is right outside the door!"

"My name's Lieutenant Horatio Caine with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. We had reason to believe that woman might want to harm Mrs. Johannsen."

In the noise and confusion, Yelina watched from the doorway when a young nurse took her by the arm.

"Ma'am, you're gonna have to leave."

Yelina found herself nudged out into the hallway and the door closed. In a daze she glanced down the hallway at some dumbfounded residents and nurses who had stowed their medicine carts and now scrambled to get everyone into lockdown. She could hear doors slamming on all sides as uniformed officers walked in, talking on radios. A short, ponytailed nurse pointed in her direction.

Cal Barber rushed in from the sea of red and blue flashing lights outside. He left a trail of raindrops. His hair, glasses and clothes were soaked. He was red from panic.

"Yelina? What the hell happened? Yelina?"

"Patricia Chastain was here. They just took her into custody."

"Did she—"

Yelina pushed her curls back and looked into his terrified brown eyes. He looked down. "Oh my God. Please tell me she didn't."

Without saying a word, Yelina looked at the closed door with the noisy confusion and the beeping heart monitor. Both of them knew that nursing home staff closed the door like that for only one reason.

Cal Barber and Yelina jerked their heads up, startled by the overhead speaker.

_Attention, all emergency personnel! Code Alpha Room 105! Repeat! Code Alpha, Room 105!_

Horatio slipped out and closed the door behind him.

"Horatio? What's going on?" Cal nearly begged. "Code Alpha?"

They all watched two burly male medics hustled a metal crash cart through the door and then closed it firmly again.

"Cardiac arrest."


	18. Waiting for Justice

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: "pro se" means defending self in a court of law.**

* * *

**Chapter 18—Waiting for Justice**

There were no other sounds in the hospital room except the _BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_ of the heart monitor and the clicking of the IV regulator.

Horatio and Cal Barber sat on either side of Mrs. Johannsen, who still lay asleep in the hospital bed. Neither one spoke for a long time.

"Funny" Cal finally said. "When I said Addie was a tough old bird, I didn't realize how right I was."

Horatio nodded thoughtfully. "Mr. Barber, in all my years as a CSI, I saw time and time again how people have an incredible will to survive."

The young attorney shook his head. "I don't doubt you." He chuckled a little. "But it just surprises me. Why doesn't she just want to let go and be with Steven and the kids? It would be easier to do that. But she just keeps fighting. Just hanging on. No matter that her health keeps getting worse. Wish I knew. I love Addie like an aunt. It's gonna be tough when her time comes. But to just see her take a beating and keep on going like she does. Like she's just gotta stick around and do something. See something."

"Mr. Barber, I wonder whether she's waiting for justice. Not just for herself, but for her family."

He shrugged. "Wouldn't surprise me. That was always his way. Look, Horatio, do you mind sitting with her for a little while in case she wakes up? I hope my favors aren't used up."

"Not in the least."

The young attorney stood up and stretched. "I'm going over to the nursing home to sign some paperwork. She's gonna live at my house, in my spare room. She's gonna have round-the-clock security and private home care there. I can't take any more chances on her getting hurt."

"Let me know if I can help with anything."

"Well, I understand Yelina's a retired detective. Can she still handle a firearm?"

"I believe so."

"I might ask her if she'd like to moonlight as a security guard. Addie really loves the both of you and well, looks like she can do detective work and security at the same time."

"Why don't you talk to her, Mr. Barber?"

"Thanks. I'll do that." He breathed deeply as the reality hit him now. "You don't know how much I appreciate everything you two have done for us." He then reached forward and touched the lady's frail arm. He then leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. Tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm sorry." He turned and wiped his eyes discreetly.

"I understand, Mr. Barber, and I think she does too."

"You have no idea how much Addie has suffered. Call me if I can do anything." With that he walked out.

With determined fingers, Horatio dialed the number to the Twin Cities Crime Lab and the hit the speaker button.

"Dr. Singletary."

Horatio leaned forward on the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "Dr. Singletary. Lieutenant Caine."

"I heard. How's she doing?"

There was a silence as Horatio looked up at Mrs. Johannsen. "Not too well, Doctor. They got her stable, but she's resting right now."

"I tell you, Lieutenant. Seems like the shockwaves just keep coming. The local press is covering this thing minute by minute. Everybody who knew the Chastains knew Patti was a bit of a loco weed, but this?"

"Attempted first-degree murder. The FBI will be involved, since she crossed state lines to do it. Her father can't save her this time." He looked more directly at the phone on the desk now. "And what about Ed Chastain?"

"Nothing anyone can charge him with, really. Those bank records Yelina sent that prove he wired the money to Bill Whitesides, who then paid Jean Boudin?"

Horatio looked down. "I'd like to say it helps, but all we can prove is that Ed Chastain wired money to Bill Whitesides. No way we can prove conspiracy to commit murder or attempted murder."

"Not so for Patti. She drove to Florida on her own free will. No paper trail, no emails that say anyone told her to do so. People she worked with said she had to take care of a family emergency. Nobody knew."

Horatio stared at the phone. He felt helpless. "So Ed Chastain is gonna walk."

"Afraid so."

"And Bill Whitesides?"

"Lawyered up pro se. At this point, the only thing we could prove on either one is money laundering. There is conspiracy to commit first-degree murder on Bill Whitesides, but I need to warn you; he's pretty good. He's gonna defend himself on the conspiracy charge. Released on his own recognizance pending his initial hearing. Statute of limitations ran out years ago on the money laundering charge."

The Lieutenant furrowed his eyebrows. "Twin Cities released him?"

"The judge made that decision, not us. Lieutenant Caine, you know how these things are. But I can guarantee you it's not like they're walking away from this thing smelling like a rose. The media has been all over this. Both are tied to this thing whether they like it or not."

"That's not good enough, Dr. Singletary. Someone in that fire tried to make sure Adelaide Johannsen didn't get out of there alive. We already know by the placement of that fire that it couldn't possibly have been Jean Boudin."

"Sorry, Lieutenant Caine. Bill Whitesides has already admitted to being in the fire. He even claimed he tried to save Joshua Michael's life. But we don't have a murder weapon. Now there were some items we could check, but you know DNA is almost impossible to extract. That stuff has been buried, rained on, and decomposed for twenty-three years."

"Try, Dr. Singletary. The Shark has been swimming around free while Mrs. Johannsen has been hanging on for dear life."

So absorbed was Horatio in his anger that he stiffened up when he felt a gentle hand on his wrist.

"Lieutenant Caine, you there?" Dr. Singletary asked from the speaker.

"Yes. Look, I'm going to see what I can find out. Doctor, if my lab can help in any way. If I can send someone up to the Twin Cities to work with you on this case, I will. But Bill Whitesides can't walk away from this one. We'll talk more later." With that he clicked off the speaker button.

Slowly and deliberately Mrs. Johannsen put her finger to her throat.

"Who…was…that?"

"That was Dr. Singletary with the Twin Cities Crime Lab, Ma'am."

"Where…is…everyone…else?"

He leaned forward tiredly. "Yelina is at home resting, and Cal Barber is working with the nursing home."

Slowly and weakly, she reached out for her pen and pad. Horatio reached behind him and put them in her hands.

_I heard you talking about Bill Whitesides. What is going on?_

Horatio wanted to shield her from things. But she was too smart for that.

_I know what you're thinking, Horatio. Why don't you just let it go? I now know that what happened wasn't an accident. If Patti Chastain is going to prison for what she tried to do to me, I will accept that. You and the Miami-Dade Police have done more than I ever imagined. Meeting you and Yelina has been a miracle I never thought would happen. _

He smiled. "Sometimes I think your moving there was a miracle for Yelina and I."

_You really should marry Yelina. The two of you would make a beautiful husband and wife. Much like Steven and myself, I believe._

He looked down and smiled.

_I realize that she is your late brother's wife. But think about it. You clearly love one another. You go to such great lengths to make sure she and her son are cared for. I understand both of you are both widowed. It would not only be right, but proper for you to marry Yelina if she agrees. She will have someone to come home to. Ray Jr. will have a man he can look up to in his life. Don't you think that's what Raymond would have wanted?_

"It is what Raymond would have wanted."

_The next time I see Yelina, will she be wearing an engagement ring?_


	19. The Knife's Edge

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**Chapter 19—The Knife's Edge**

"So what do you think of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab, Mrs. Johannsen?" Horatio asked.

From her wheelchair the lady studied the computer equipment and then put her hand to her throat.

"It's…very…nice."

"This is Dave Benton. He's our audiovisual tech. Mr. Benton, I'd like you to meet Mrs. Johannsen."

"Good…morning…Mr. Benton" she whispered cordially.

The ponytailed A/V tech looked up from his main monitor. "Ma'am."

Horatio pulled up a chair and sat next to her as the monitor came to life. "You're going to see how we've been working with the Twin Cities Crime Lab. We talk into the video camera on top of the monitor. Dr. Singletary is the head of the Twin Cities Crime Lab. He has the same kind of camera. Here they are. Dr. Singletary?"

"Lieutenant Caine."

Horatio smiled a little. "I have a VIP here today. I'd like you to meet Adelaide Johannsen." He motioned to the camera.

Dr. Singletary smiled. "Mrs. Johannsen, it's a pleasure to finally meet with you."

The lady studied the monitor and then put her hand to her throat. "Thank…you…Doctor. You…as…well."

"When Patricia Chastain came after you we feared the worst."

"Thank…you. Horatio…and…Yelina…protected…me."

"Mrs. Johannsen, Dr. Singletary, I wanted to meet today because any evidence we have tying Bill Whitesides to Mrs. Johannsen's attempted murder is purely circumstantial. Bill Whitesides is a practiced trial lawyer who's representing himself. If we're going to put this guy away, the case against him is going to have to be airtight. Now Mrs. Johannsen, the hospital ran an MRI on the scar on your neck. I'm thinking the scar tissue is too thick for it to show up on X-ray, but Dr. Singletary, if you'll click on the icon on the bottom right, you'll see a copy of the image."

Mrs. Johannsen watched curiously while the image popped up on the screen. "You'll see here that the MRI found an object just anterior of your larynx. It's not very large. It's about a centimeter in length. It's not metal, which is probably why it didn't show up on any X-rays."

The bespectacled lab tech put his hand to his chin. "Hold on a moment. I'm looking at the list of things we recovered from the excavation." He then flipped through pages in a folder. "Our CSI's found a ceramic knife. Mrs. Johannsen, do you recall owning a ceramic knife?"

"Yes."

"As you know, ceramic is porous, so it was easier to find blood and DNA on the blade as well as under the handle. Traces of DNA match Bill Whitesides. There's DNA to an unknown female."

Horatio looked at the lady. "Mrs. Johannsen, I wonder whether you could be our unknown female."

Dr. Singletary gave them a hard look. "There's more."

"I'm listening, Doctor."

The tip of the blade was broken off. Now as you know, ceramic knives weren't always the best quality back then. But this definitely puts the knife in Bill Whitesides' hand."

"Dr. Singletary, could you send that knife priority to our crime lab so we can test it against Mrs. Johannsen? Mrs. Johannsen, would you mind giving us a DNA sample?"

"I…guess…that…would…be…all…right."

The senior lab tech nodded. "It'll be on its way within the hour."

"There's just one more thing, Mrs. Johannsen. I'd like to know if you would mind undergoing another surgery so that we might try to remove that object in your neck."

She nodded. "Can…you…do…that?"

He paused. "You might not be able to talk at all for at least a few days."

"A surgeon should be able to get it out with local anesthetic" Dr. Singletary added. "And judging from the way that's up against your larynx, who knows? You might even regain your voice. Maybe that object's been blocking your vocal chords."

She nodded. Mrs. Johannsen was hesitant to push against her neck, now that she knew that she might have been pushing something into her throat.

* * *

Horatio stood over Ryan's shoulder, transfixed as the printouts came up on the printer.

"It's a match. William Whitesides and Adelaide Johannsen."

"And the tip?"

"Perfect fit. The chip they took out of Adelaide Johannsen's neck broke off this very knife."

Dr. Singletary smiled noticeably as he looked into the camera. "Lieutenant Caine? Mrs. Johannsen?"

"We're here, Dr. Singetary."

"You both heard the news?"

"We have."

Mrs. Johannsen nodded.

"If you click on the third icon on the screen, I thought Mrs. Johannsen might want to see something. This is for you, Ma'am."

Dave clicked on the icon while the lady moved in closely to see the monitor.

_In this never-ending saga of justice, there has been yet another turn of events. The State's Attorney's Office has formally charged William Whitesides, known as 'The Shark', with the attempted murder of Adelaide Johannsen in November 1986. The Twin Cities Crime Lab has been working with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab in the case of the Thanksgiving Fire that killed Senator-Elect Steven Johannsen, along with their two children, Joshua Michael and Elizabeth. As you may know, the fire has originally been ruled a tragic accident, but the case was recently reopened. Now both crime labs have uncovered evidence, along with eyewitness testimonies, that tie Bill Whitesides, State Assemblyman Ed Chastain, and Jean Boudin, a Canadian businessman, to these tragic deaths. Bill Whitesides was taken into custody in the middle of one of his press conferences while our cameras were rolling._

"_Mr. Whitesides, what about the Thanksgiving Fire? Have there been any new developments?"_

The large, proud, confident attorney scowled. _"I don't have any comment on that-"_

_William Whitesides, Minneapolis Police Department!"_

He stiffened up but regained his composure and put up his hand. _"I'm in the middle of a press conference, gentleman. Can't it wait?"_

"_Sir, you're under arrest, charged with the attempted murder of Adelaide Johannsen!"_

The once, proud, confident attorney backed up and balled up his fists as four uniformed officers surrounded him_. "No! You made a mistake here! I didn't kill anyone! Hey! What the hell are you doing?"_

"_You have the right to remain silent, Sir. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you—"_

Two officers snapped cuffs on him and hustled him away from the podium. What had been a quiet, routine press conference had now turned into a free-for-all as the snapping of cameras and anxious questions drowned out his defiance.

"I thought you might want to see that, Mrs. Johannsen" the senior lab tech said. "Ma'am? You okay?"

Those sad, tired brown eyes never moved. For what seemed a long time, she stared hypnotically at the monitor. No cheering. No crying. Just watching. Twenty-three years of pain and loneliness had been shattered in one day.

Horatio understood. He just dipped his head and let her take in the justice that was being served. "Everything's fine, Dr. Singletary" he said with a smile. Both of them lived for moments like this. He watched her as she finally touched the bandage on her throat. She finally groped for her pen and pad.

_I always hated that man. I don't understand why Steven let him work on the campaign. _

Horatio nodded. "Mrs. Johannsen, we wanted to be absolutely sure we had an airtight case. And there's no statute of limitations this time. In the state of Minnesota, attempted murder is considered the same as murder itself. He's never going to hurt you or anyone else ever again."

Mrs. Johannsen just watched as though she had heard nothing. No tears. No smiling. Just watching.

Horatio knelt closer to her.

"Do you want to be by yourself for a while?"

She shook her head and wrote on her pad. As she showed it to Horatio, her eyes had a new brightness to them.

_I believe we're having shark steaks for dinner._

Horatio grinned as he stood up. "I believe you're right."

_Now, about you and Yelina._


	20. Not Forgotten

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: First, I want to once again thank everyone for their wonderful reviews. ****Many of you have been asking about Horatio and Yelina.**

**Here's your answer.**

* * *

**Chapter 20—Not Forgotten**

The cheers, shouting, laughter, political dealings, and clinking of glasses could be heard in the quiet, pink, plush ladies' lounge.

Yelina wore a sleeveless black dress and matching heels. She sat on the plush white couch next to Mrs. Johannsen, who had parked her wheelchair before the full-length mirror. She adjusted her graceful lavender hat and checked her long-sleeved dress. She then sat back. Not excited. Not afraid. Her brown eyes probed every detail of the burn scars on her face.

"This must be like old times for you" Yelina said with a smile.

Mrs. Johannsen turned to her and nodded. "Yes. Many…years…ago. With…Steven."

Yet Yelina couldn't help but notice that the lady seemed a little pale. Her frail body also rose and shrank with deep breaths. "How are you feeling? You look a little tired."

Slowly she turned to the P.I. "I'm…fine. Thank…you."

"Sounds like your voice is healing."

She nodded. She then turned to Yelina. "May…I…see…again?"

"Of course." A beaming Yelina held out her left hand.

With a white-gloved hand, Mrs. Johannsen delicately held her fingers and looked at the shining engagement ring. Again.

"It's…beautiful. You…and…Horatio…make…a…beautiful…couple." She then stopped to catch her breath.

"Much like you and Steven."

She dipped her head. "Yes. Me...and...Steven."

Horatio knocked and then peeked in the door. "Five minutes, ladies."

Yelina immediately stood up behind Mrs. Johannsen's wheelchair. "I guess we better get going."

Cal Barber tugged at his bowtie. During his time in Florida he'd grown accustomed to polo shirts and sandals. Now he too saw that Mrs. Johannsen was struggling to breathe. "Addie? You gonna be all right?"

She nodded with a resolve.

"How's your throat?"

"Better."

"Cal Barber! You're on! Go!" a voice barked.

Quickly he smoothed out his black jacket and checked his speech cards. "Just like old times" he said with a nervous smile.

* * *

The young attorney walked out to the podium among the flashbulbs and applause. In the spotlights he could barely see the signs for the different states. He waited until it fell silent. He then adjusted his glasses as he scanned the audience. It had been so long.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Dignitaries. Fellow delegates. In the 1986, Senator-Elect Steven Johannsen was a rising star in the Minnesota political scene. We were all sure that he was on his way to Washington as our newest, youngest senator. It was a proud day for the party. But then came yet another day many of us will never forget. That was the Thanksgiving Fire. While Senator-Elect Johannsen and his family sat down to what should have been a happy Thanksgiving celebration with his family, a fire swept through their home. When it was all over, Senator-Elect Johannsen and his two children had perished. Wife and mother Adelaide barely survived. Adelaide was so badly injured that she was unable to attend her family's funeral, as she spent six long, agonizing months in the Hennepin burn unit, undergoing repeated surgeries and rehabilitation."

Cal Barber paused. There was only silence.

"Many of us who grew up in the little town of Oakley, Minnesota remember Adelaide Johannsen. We knew her as 'Miss Addie', who used to come to the grammar school and read to the kindergarten class. Many of us remember the bright, cheery lady who would walk the halls and shake hands, helping to campaign for her husband back in those days. We remember her 'America Reads' program in which she helped to raise money to buy books and magazines for schools, hospitals, and even prisons. Miss Addie, as we called her, was passionate about 'America Reads.' She was passionate about her family. About the children of Minnesota. She was passionate about her husband's campaign. Even though many of us were too young to understand or remember politics, we remember that smile. That wave. We all looked forward to that day each year when Miss Addie came to the school to read 'T'Was the Night Before Christmas' to the kindergarten and first grade classes. I felt special to be able to ride my bike over to the Johannsens' house and play video games with Joshua Michael until Miss Addie would tell us to go outside and play. Admittedly we didn't share her passion for reading and the written and spoken language. But we knew that Miss Addie had a passion for life. For everything she did."

The young attorney dipped his head.

"Sadly, I can remember as well the tragic news when the fire swept through the Johannsen house. I can remember the shock. The sadness. It was like losing members of our own family. We all knew Miss Addie wouldn't be coming down the hallways, embarrassing her own children when she smiled while carrying books under her arm. On that day, it was like our town had its heart ripped out."

"Adelaide Johannsen was the only survivor of the Thanksgiving Fire. She tried desperately to return to normal life. But so many things were taken from her that day. Not just her family. Her cheerful voice. Her beautiful, gracious smile. Many in Minnesota and as far away as Washington thought she had eventually died as well. The truth is, she picked up the pieces and lived her life as best she could, moving several more times. As the years went on, it just seemed like everyone went on about their lives and eventually forgot about the Thanksgiving Fire. She believed that everyone had just forgotten about her."

"Finally, just last year, she made the decision to move here to Miami, Florida to make a fresh start. When I helped her to move here, we both thought it would just be another stop along the way. That Adelaide Johannsen would just quietly live out her days here, by herself, as she always had. But little did we know, one evening, something would happen that would change all that. When Adelaide slipped and fell on her front step, two neighbors came to her aid. These neighbors are Yelina Salas and Lieutenant Horatio Caine is with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. Lieutenant Caine had his suspicions about the Thanksgiving Fire and suggested to me that the case be reopened for further investigation. In the weeks following, the Miami-Dade and the Twin Cities Crime Labs worked together tirelessly, working with the authorities in both cities to find out the truth about that tragic day. Well, as you all know, as a direct result of that collaboration, the official cause has been changed from an accident to arson. Three suspects have been arrested and charged with murder and attempted murder." He paused and looked stage right. "Ladies and gentlemen, I can't begin to thank the Miami-Dade Crime Lab as well as the Twin Cities Crime Lab, who worked together to right a wrong. It's safe to say that Steven, Adelaide, Joshua Michael, and Elizabeth Johannsen all received justice."

"At the same time, Adelaide Johannsen had wondered whether we had forgotten about her. Well, Adelaide, we're here to say that America has not forgotten about you. Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, Lieutenant Horatio Caine and Yelina Salas, who I understand have just announced their engagement, are here with us tonight."

Cal Barber looked at them from the podium again and smiled.

"Miss Addie, you wonder whether we've forgotten you? Well, here's your answer. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a round of applause. Mrs. Adelaide Johannsen!"

Horatio and Yelina wheeled out Mrs. Johannsen into the screaming lights. They had not even yet come onstage when the crowd gave a thundering applause. From front to back the audience stood up in the bright lights. Horatio had to shield his eyes from the storm of flashbulbs. Cal Barber himself applauded as he stood with them.

The applause and the flashbulbs just seemed to go on and on. From her wheelchair, Mrs. Johannsen simply raised her head and looked out at the auditorium. A tear trickled down her cheek as, from left to right, she just looked over the crowd, the flashbulbs and the cameras. She had not been forgotten.

After what seemed an eternity, the applause and the flashbulbs finally died down. Someone whistled out. Mrs. Johannsen could feel the heat of the lights on her skin as she just took in the moment. Finally, with a tired, delicate hand she reached out to Cal Barber, who put the microphone in her gloved hand.

"Hello" she whispered gently.

The applause thundered again. She just watched and waited until it died down. Horatio touched her shoulder.

"Thank…you…very…much."

More applause.

"I'm…happy…to…be…here. S-Steven…would…be…very…proud."

As the crowd cheered again, the lady dipped her head and breathed hard.

Horatio leaned down. "You okay?"

Her eyes closed, she nodded.

"I…want…to…thank…Lieutenant…Caine…and…Miss…Salas…for…everything."

Horatio reached over and held Yelina's hand. She smiled proudly as she waved to the audience.

"Thank…you…for…this…honor." With that she dipped her head and handed the microphone back to Cal.

"I think we better get you home" Horatio whispered.

She nodded, her eyes closed.

The lady was met with more applause and flashbulbs backstage.

"Congratulations! You did great out there!"

"Can…we…go…home? I'm…very…tired."


	21. A Sort of Homecoming

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: This is NOT the final chapter. There are two more after this one. Please, please stay with me. There will be yet another twist. I promise.  
The theme song for this chapter is "Good Enough" by Evanescence. **

* * *

**Chapter 21—A Sort of Homecoming**

It was late afternoon when Yelina helped Mrs. Johannsen out of the car. Rather than the observant, genteel lady that all of them knew, she was now clearly pale and tired. She strained as, with both arms she hoisted herself up from the car seat, along the car door, and let herself fall into her wheelchair where she let out a breath and dipped her head. There she sat, limp like a rag doll.

Cal Barber came around and peered under her hat brim. "Addie? You gonna be okay, Sweetheart?" he whispered.

"Can…Yelina…put…me…to…bed?" she nearly gasped, her head still down.

His eyes darted between the two ladies. He hated to put such an imposition on Yelina. "Well…."

Yelina grasped the wheelchair handles. "I don't mind a bit. I'll get her to her room."

The young attorney seemed relieved. "Thanks. Home Care doesn't get here for an hour or so."

Mrs. Johannsen looked at her room differently. Almost as though she'd never been there before. She studied every detail again. Yelina touched her arm. "Will you be all right?"

With a weak, tired hand, she motioned to a nightgown that hung on a hook. Quickly the P.I. grabbed it and laid it respectfully over the armrest of her wheelchair. "Should I go out?"

She nodded. "Thank…you."

Yelina knocked on the door after waiting for about ten minutes. "Okay to come in?"

"Please…come…in" a voice whispered. Yelina could barely hear her.

Mrs. Johannsen had slipped into the roseprint nightgown and eased herself under the light blue covers of her bed. It seemed to take every ounce of strength she had. She now lay on her back, pillows propped up behind her neck. She made no attempt to study Yelina to try to mine more secrets from her soul.

"I can get you some water."

She put up her hand.

Yelina couldn't help but notice that, even when this majestic lady was lonely and scared, she always had that sympathy that just seemed to pass through those brown eyes. Now those eyes looked tired. Vacant. As though sympathy, understanding and life were clearly used up. Slowly she grasped Yelina's wrist.

"Yelina."

She bent down to the lady, her curls falling around her face like a curtain.

Mrs. Johannsen always struggled to talk, but this time she held her hand over her chest and took breaths between words. "I..will…always…be…grateful."

Yelina furrowed her eyebrows. "For what?"

"Everything…you…and…Horatio…did."

Her eyes locked with those sad, brown eyes that were growing more lifeless by the minute. She dropped to her knees next to the bed and held the woman's arm.

"Mrs. Johannsen?"

"It's…all…right."

She then bolted up, her curls bouncing behind her as she stood at the stairway landing. "Horatio? Cal?"

Both gentlemen knew that kind of panic in her voice. Horatio raced into the room, followed by Cal. "Is she okay?" Cal wanted to know.

Horatio didn't wait for an answer. He knelt by her side and touched her hair. "Ma'am?"

"Horatio" she whispered faintly turning her head toward him.

His eyes were just inches from hers. She gently reached out and touched his red hair, slowly drawing him forward into a hug. Why did this woman penetrate his soul so easily, he thought. He wrapped his strong arms around her weak, tired body. "I'm right here. Mrs. Johannsen. Addie. Your hands are awfully cold."

"I…will…always…be…grateful…for…you."

He smiled sadly. "And I for you."

Yelina looked on with Cal Barber. "We should call an ambulance."

"She has a DNR order" he whispered. But then frantically he kneeled where Horatio had been. "Addie?"

She leaned forward and touched her lips to his brown hair. He couldn't control his tears as he looked into her pale, tired face. "Addie?"

"You…took…good…care…of…me."

He nodded, sniffing and wiping the tears from his face.

"Yelina" she whispered.

The normally strong P.I. could barely control her own tears as she touched the lady's grayish blonde hair. "You're dying, aren't you?"

She nodded as she held her chest. "Going…home."

Yelina's eyes glistened as the lady touched her face. "You know, the night you moved into the house across the street, I'd been praying for a miracle. Now I know you were that miracle." She smiled at the memory now.

"And…you…were…mine."

"We're all gonna miss you."

"It's…not…forever." With her weak hand she held Yelina's fingers, touching the silver engagement ring. "You…have…Horatio…and…Ray."

"Yes, I know."

Slowly the lady eased herself up and motioned toward the wall. "My…white…book."

In one smooth motion, Cal Barber grabbed the old photo album from the shelf and tucked it into her arms. She held it like a teddy bear.

Cal clutched his hands. "Addie?"

Though Mrs. Johannsen had been tired and weak, she now seemed to be fixed on something. There seemed to be strength of another kind now. Still clutching the photo album comfortingly, she slowly reached ahead of her.

"Steven."

Cal stepped out of the room and sobbed openly, his face over his hand.

"Lizzie. Joshua. My…babies."

"That's right, Addie. Go to them" he whispered, holding back tears himself. "They're waiting for you."

There was peace and hope in those brown eyes as none of them had ever seen, as she slowly lowered her hand and closed her eyes.

With one hand Horatio felt for a pulse in her neck. "She's gone."

Yelina wiped her eyes. "To them."

Cal Barber wiped his eyes and blew his nose as he stood outside the door.

Horatio took deep breaths to dispel his own sadness. Gently and respectfully he took the white book out of her hands. He then eased the blue blanket over the Mrs. Johannsen's sleeping face. "TOD is four-fifteen pm. I'll call Alexx." He touched Cal's shoulder. "You all right?"

He nodded, his eyes still closed. "Now I know why she held on for so long."


	22. Slow Ride to Minnesota

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: This isn't the last chapter. One left. I still want to thank all of you for enjoying. Hope to have the next and last chapter up tomorrow. **

* * *

**Chapter 22—Slow Ride to Minnesota**

Alexx Woods shook her head slowly as she stood next to the peacefully sleeping lady. Horatio, in his blue lab coat, stood opposite from her.

"Amazing she lived as long as she did. You were definitely on a mission, sweet lady" Alexx nearly whispered. Gently she touched the long, grayish blonde hair that now rested under her head.

Normally Horatio could be detached from anyone on that slab, but this was different. As he glanced at Alexx, he could see that, even though she was gone, Mrs. Johannsen still somehow seemed to endear her as well. "COD, Alexx?"

She motioned to the Y-cut on Mrs. Johannsen's burn-scarred collarbone. "Arrhythmia caused by hypertrophic cardiomyopathy." Alexx motioned with her finger. "The cardiac muscles built up over the years and got tougher and tougher, usually caused by stress. It caused her kidneys and immune system to work overtime, till she just decided to call it quits. Not surprised. She had second- and third- degree burns over most of her body. And I'm sure all she's been through over the years didn't help." She leaned over and touched the lady's hair again. "You died of a broken heart, Angel."

"Alexx, is there any chance I could get a copy of your report right away? I'd like to make sure her family's taken care of."

"I thought she didn't have a family."

"They're in Minnesota." He looked down at the sleeping face again. "Alexx, when you called this woman an angel, you weren't far off."

* * *

Cal Barber hung his head, his brown eyes puffed up from crying. He stepped away from the door. "Come on in."

Horatio, Yelina, and Ray Jr. stood in the living room of Cal's home. There was a sad silence that could be felt. Horatio handed him an envelope as they stepped into his paper-stacked office.

"Mr. Barber, this is from Dr. Woods. You'll need this with the death certificate for the life insurance."

"I sure will. Thanks for taking care of this so soon." He unfolded the paper and glanced at it. "Cardiac arrhythmia. Not surprised. But I wanted to be sure."

"We all did."

He sat down and clasped his hands together. "Everybody please sit down. I called all of you here for a good reason, including you, Ray. I didn't want to say anything to you until now. Addie made some changes to her assets and her estate before she passed. I have the official will right here, and I'm about to file it with Dade County Probate. Addie wanted all of you to have some things. As you know, she had no living spouse, no children, and no living relatives. You were it. Also by giving some things away, this keeps the estate from having to pay the death tax." He handed plain white envelopes to Horatio and Yelina. "Horatio, you'll find two checks in there. One is for the Miami-Dade Police Department, to do as you see fit. The other is for you. Sort of for your trouble."

Horatio furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at both checks. He then smiled. "Well. Thank you, Mr. Barber. Addie was no trouble at all." Her mouth open, Yelina put her hand to her chest. "You really didn't have to do this."

"If it weren't for you, Addie would have died alone in that house, and the people who did this would still have been running around loose. You two made all the difference in the world. I believe that was what she was holding on for." He leaned closer to them. "Addie was like my second mother. You don't know how bad it would hurt to have her pass away without justice."

"Well, I think our officers could use some new body armor. This will about cover it" He folded up both checks and tucked them into his pocket.

Ray Jr.'s eyes went wide as he peered over his mother's shoulder. "Wow! What are we gonna do with it?"

She gave him a motherly look as she tucked the check in her purse. "I know, Ray. You've been wanting a car."

"Well yeah. That should be enough."

She put the check back into the envelope and tucked it into her purse. "We'll talk about it more later."

A smile crossed Cal's face as he picked up a large moving box. "Ray, Mrs. Johannsen didn't forget about you either. She wanted you to have these."

The teen rummaged through the box and pulled out the game cartridges, looking at each one. "Cool! Pong? Pac Man? Tempest? These are the originals."

"Yep. That Atari's old, but it should work on your TV set."

"Thanks." He then folded the box shut.

"Ray, it's been a long time since I've played those games" Horatio said. "Maybe I'll have to come over Saturday night to make sure they work right."

Yelina smiled and rolled her eyes. "These two _boys_ are gonna take over my TV set."

Cal chuckled. "Ray, you didn't look in the bottom, did you?"

Ray Jr. rummaged through the box again and pulled out a set of keys and a slip of paper. He stared. Yelina looked over his shoulder and at Cal.

"That Buick Regal?"

He nodded with a smile. "She heard Raymond wanted a car. It runs great."

The teen's face beamed at the dangling keys. "Thanks. Wow! Mom, when can I drive it?"

"When we get you on the insurance" Horatio said in a not-to-be-argued-with tone.

"Just one more thing, and we'll be done. I need you to sign these saying you received them and you have no further claims against Addie's estate. After that I'm headed down to the courthouse to do my lawyer thing."

Yelina leaned forward and scrawled her signature while Cal tucked papers into his port folio. "Other than that…." He bowed his head. Reality was hitting him that this season of life was over now. "I wish I could thank you for everything you've done."

"Glad we could help, Mr. Barber" Horatio assured him. "But I want to know. What about Mrs. Johannsen's body? She would have a place at the cemetery here."

"Oh no, no, no. I've already called the funeral home. She'll be headed back to Minnesota. In fact, I'll be riding with her. They'll have the funeral, but she'll have to stay in storage because it's too cold to bury her right now. Then in the spring thaw, they'll reinter Steven and the kids. Addie will go with them. This time they'll be buried as a family. You're more than welcome to be there."

Horatio nodded. "That would be more appropriate that she be with them. And how about you? What do you think you'll do, now that Addie's gone?"

He shrugged. "Don't really have any family here."

"You have us" Yelina insisted.

He smiled sadly. "Thanks." He looked around the small office. "Florida's kind of growing on me. I kind of like polo shirts and khakis in November. Besides, I've been seeing one of the nurses from the home where Addie was staying. So who knows? Guess we'll have to see how it pans out. At least I know if I need a P.I. for a family case, I know who to call."

"You know where to reach me" Yelina promised.

"I sure do." He stood up and shook their hands. "Well, Horatio, Yelina, Ray, I'll be back in a couple of weeks. The Buick is around back. Just take it home as soon as you have the insurance. Oh, and here's the funny part. Remember the mannequins Addie had of Steven and the kids? Got a call from the Modern Museum of the Twin Cities. They want to dedicate an exhibit to the Johannsens and the Thanksgiving Fire. I'm donating everything. The mannequins, the Holly Hobby curtains, the furniture. Everything but the video games."

"That would be appropriate" Horatio agreed. "We'll see you when you get back, Mr. Barber. Have a safe trip."

As they stepped out of the sad, quiet house, Yelina looked down at her son. "You still think she's weird, Ray?"

* * *

In the evening sun, Horatio fingered his sunglasses as he stood behind the hearse. Two funeral home workers gently wheeled the brown casket up to the back.

Horatio put up his hand. "Hold on, gentlemen. I'd like to just have a moment."

"Sure, take your time" one of them said.

"Thank you."

The Lieutenant stood at the back of the open hearse and looked for a long time at the brown casket. His blue eyes followed every detail—the wood grain, the metal handles, the black trim. He thought of Mrs. Johannsen—one of few women in this world who ever managed to steal his heart. He cocked his head as he touched the wood finish.

"Well Addie, it looks like you're on your way back to Minnesota where you belong." He glanced up at the blue sky. "I'm sure you're having Thanksgiving Dinner with Steven and the kids. I know I'll see you again one day. Take her away, Gentlemen."

As the driver closed the door, he donned his sunglasses, stood back and watched, hands on hips. He never took his eyes off the hearse as it turned out of the driveway and disappeared.

"So long, Addie."


	23. No Tears in Heaven

**Disclaimer: Chapter 1**

**A/N: This is the final chapter. ****Special thanks to ajay1960, Moochiecat, Harmysings, DerekMorgansGirlForvr, Emillyxx50 and anyone else I may have forgotten, for your kind reviews and for enjoying.  
It was a pleasure to write this. I'll see you out there soon. **

**The theme song for this chapter is "The Living Years" by Mike and the Mechanics. If you play this on the other tab while reading and don't cry buckets, then I didn't do my job very well. **

* * *

**Chapter 23—No Tears In Heaven**

**One Month Later**

Yelina opened her eyes in the darkness and glanced at the digital clock. Exactly 12:30 in the morning. Sleepily she closed her eyes and rested her head on her husband's smooth, strong chest again. In his sleep he stirred and held her close to himself, catching her chocolate curls in the crook of his arm.

It seemed so hard to believe, she thought, as her head swam. After all these years of being in love from a distance, they were finally husband and wife. Like a dream from which she hoped she'd never wake up.

Yelina opened her eyes again and looked around, taking it all in. The old, lumpy full-sized bed in which she once slept alone was now replaced with their comfortable four-posted king-size bed. Ray Jr. would be with his grandmother for the week that they would be honeymooning in the Bahamas. Horatio and Yelina were free to make new memories together now. In the darkness she saw her sleeveless white wedding dress still draped over the chair. His suit on a hanger on the doorknob. His gold wedding ring glinted in the faint light. She had placed it on his finger that afternoon at the Dade County Courthouse. Her body still tingled from the love they made just a few hours ago. She closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep on his chest again.

No, it was all real. She was truly debt free and one with the man that she had loved all along.

As she lay blissfully, still drifting from the wine and the lovemaking, she listened. There were no other sounds but her husband's breathing and the crickets chirping outside the window. A frog would croak every now and again.

"You okay, Mrs. Caine?" he finally whispered.

She stiffened up at his voice but then rested her curls on his skin again.

"Mmm. Guess I just couldn't sleep."

Horatio tilted his head toward her and combed her curls with his fingers. "Thinking about the boat ride to Nassau in the morning?"

She smiled sleepily. "Well, that, and…."

"That and what else?"

She stretched her arms out and rolled onto her back, tucking the sheet around her collarbone. "It's nothing, really."

He rolled onto his side and faced her. "Tell me."

"I was just remembering the night Mrs. Johannsen moved in across the street. It was twelve-thirty in the morning then, too. Just a couple of hours before that I remember sleeping in here by myself. Missing you. Remembering asking God for a miracle."

"And what was that miracle?"

"That you and I would be together just like this for the rest of our lives. And that if God would give me that one thing I'd never ask for anything else ever again."

Horatio could see her looking down a little sadly now. "Except?"

"I really miss her. I wish I could see her one last time." She yawned and stretched before slipping out of bed and putting on her linen robe. "Horatio, I'm not sleepy right now. I'll just look out the window for a few minutes. That little house has been quiet."

Her husband propped his head on his elbow and watched her. "It has."

Yelina opened the blinds and looked out into the dimly lighted street. The little blue house was as dark as it had been before that night. She turned to him. "You'd never know anyone lived there."

But then when she looked back out into the street, something caught her attention. "Horatio? Something's out there."

He sensed the urgency in her voice and slipped on shorts and a tee shirt before coming to the window. "What is it?"

She stood back with her mouth open. "I don't know. Wait! It looks like…."

There, in the very same spot, right in front of the little blue house, stood a shining silvery figure. It gave off a light bright enough to light up the street. Horatio stood back for a moment as the light streamed into their window like headlights from a car.

"You see it?"

"I do."

"But how?"

For a minute they both stared, transfixed on the bright light that was not more than thirty feet from them.

It was Mrs. Johannsen. Standing with her back to them, looking up sadly at the blue house for what seemed a long time, just like she did that first night. Wearing her large-brimmed hat. With her long dress, long sleeves and gloves. Standing in that ladylike manner. But instead of the elegant pastel colors, she shone. Slowly as she turned to them, those familiar sympathetic brown eyes met theirs.

Horatio didn't realize that he had put his arms around his wife while they both watched. Neither could believe what they were seeing.

"Yelina. Horatio" they heard her say as clearly as if she were in the room with them.

For just a moment they looked at one another.

"Do you want to see me as I am now?" she said in a normal voice, rather than the strained whisper that she had always spoken with.

"I'd like that" Yelina said softly, not realizing what she was doing.

Then the night lit up even more brightly.

There stood Adelaide Johannsen as she was before the Thanksgiving Fire. She shone in the night. But she was younger. Happy. Unscarred on her skin or her soul. Clear, energetic brown eyes. The radiant smile that they had seen only in those photographs. She wore a smart dress suit, looking like she was ready to stand with her husband, the senator.

Yelina glanced at Horatio. He just watched.

Now three other shimmering figures stood with her—a man and two children.

In spite of himself, Horatio smiled and nodded. "Steven. Joshua Michael, and Lizzie."

"She's with her family."

Steven held his wife close and kissed her cheek. Adelaide Johannsen dipped her head and seemed to blush like a schoolgirl. He then looked directly at Horatio and Yelina.

"Thank you."

"Thank you" Mrs. Johannsen said.

Joshua Michael and Lizzie leaned their heads against their mother's hands and waved toward the window. "Thank you!"

"And thank you too" Yelina felt herself whispering as she waved, holding back tears. Horatio felt himself holding her closer to him. She couldn't help it anymore. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly.

The Johannsen Family now turned and seemed to walk away, arms around one another, up toward the starry Florida sky, up over the palms, getting smaller and smaller. Horatio and Yelina watched them, awestruck, until they disappeared completely. The street was as dark and silent as it ever was now, with only the crickets chirping.

For a long time neither one said a word. Both just smiled out the window. The only light now came from the lonely corner streetlight.

"I got a whole lot more than I asked for today" Yelina said, wiping her eyes.

Horatio tenderly wiped the tears off her cheeks. "You should never limit God to just one thing. Well, Mrs. Caine, I'm starting to think we should get some sleep."

"I don't know if I can sleep after that."

"I guess we'll have to try" he said with a sleepy grin.

Horatio slipped back under the covers and cuddled his wife close to him.

"I hope we can always be like them" she whispered.

"As do I."

As she took it all in one more time, Yelina closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
